Those Four Last Days of the War
by oscarpaz00
Summary: A terrible betrayal tore them apart. But now, after so long, they reunite again, in the midst of the war and when all hope is lost. But though what happened may help them win, it may also mean the definitive loss of their chance at happiness.
1. Introduction

**INTRODUCTION**

Before you push the 'next' button and start reading the story, you ought to read a brief introduction, which is divided in two parts. The first part is needed if you want to understand the story. The second is not necessary, but recommendable.

**PART 1:**

This story is sort of an AU to Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. As its name suggests, it happens entirely during four days in the month of January in 1998, but some parts of the story, of course, happens before then. The most important ones are explained through conversations or even flashbacks.

However, something is not explained, hence the necessity of this introduction: everything is just like in the books until Ron and Ginny's argument in Half-Blood Prince. That never happens in my story, and so Ron and Hermione got to go to Slughorn's Party together. From that point on, even though the 'background' of the story remains the same, what happens to the main characters changes, of course. By 'background', I mean Voldemort's plans, Draco's mission, Dumbledore's death, the fall of the Ministry and all that.

Another important thing, before you begin to read, is that, though this story is under the Ron/Hermione category, it doesn't start that way. In fact, some of you, as R/Hr shippers (like myself) might find the second chapter even disgusting. I just ask you to read the first three or four chapters before judging the story too badly. I can promise everything will make sense in the end. But this is a sad story, and it may not have a 'classical' happy ending. Of course, I won't tell you; that would ruin it completely. However, I can assure you that the ending is exactly the one the story needs.

The story is already finished, because I would never publish something if I'm not sure I can finish it. It has 26 chapters and an epilogue, and it's told from Hermione's POV except for two chapters (one of them, the first). I have to say that, even the first chapters are a bit short, they get longer towards the end. In fact, chapter 22 will be published in two parts due to its length.

As a last thing, just mention that I'm Spanish, and this is the first time I write a story in English. In fact, when the idea for this one struck me, last Christmas, I wasn't sure if I would be able to write it. In the end, I was, and it was entertaining and very instructing. Just forgive me if you find grammatical mistakes or words misused. I've read the story dozens of times and I think I did a pretty good job, but surely you'll find errors. I would love it if you point them out to me, that way I can learn and get better.

Ah, of course, this is written in British English, so please, don't tell me that 'realise', 'colour' and other words such as these are misspelled.

Now, if you want, you can press the 'next button', but I would appreciate if you read part 2 of this introduction.

**PART 2:**

As I told you, the idea of this story hit me during last Christmas. It took shape just in a few days, and even though it's not the typical story I would write, I had to, and I've been writing it ever since. Some parts were really tough to write, especially chapter 16, and, if you read the story, you'll understand why. But, in the end, I finished it. I also wrote a lot of notes and even some background to the story, stories of events that happened prior the main story. I might publish them someday, I don't know.

I love Ron and Hermione. I really do. And this story is about them. Truly, it's about a lot of things, but it's mainly about them. It gave me the opportunity to write and express my views on what Hermione thought during the Yule Ball, for example, or what she thought about the times she and Ron were not speaking. So have faith, because, despite the ending, that may or may not be what you expect, you'll love Hermione and Ron even more once the story is completed.

Apart from that, this story let me explore what would have happened had something changed in DH. What if Harry had never seen the symbol of the Deathly Hallows round Xenophilius Lovegood's neck? What if they had not carried with them Phineas Nigellus' portrait? How would have Snape found them to give them the sword?

If you decide to read the story, I recommend you to do it carefully. As in the HP books, little details are very, very important.

Now, about updates. There is nothing I hate more than an unfinished story. It is horribly frustrating, and that's why I didn't start publishing this until I had it finished and well revised, because another thing I hate are plot holes. I even find fitting that I finished it this weekend, just after seeing HP and DH2. I also hate when a story I like is updated once every two months, or things like that, because you end up forgetting things. Well, that won't happen here. I'll publish every few days. At the very least (and I mean if I am very busy or in holiday) once a week.

And to finish, just a reminder: I'm not English, so, be patient if I make mistakes or use words in the wrong context. And to all of you that are British, forgive me if I made mistakes with your traditions. I did a lot of research on customs, traditions, slang ... The things I got right are due to the people that helped me and the websites I visited; the mistakes are only my fault.

Enjoy the journey.


	2. The Return

_January, 1998_

A sudden ripple disturbed the calm air and, without the slightest sound, a man appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the dark forest. For a few minutes he simply stood there, still as a statue, taking in his surroundings, just watching and hearing. He was dressed in black trousers, a black, tight jumper and black leather boots; a black travelling cloak was hanging over his shoulders, and he had the hood of the cloak over his head. This attire made him darker than the night itself, and it was as if a black hole had appeared in the silent, eerie forest, discernible only due to the shimmering of the snow and the weak moonlight that passed through the thin layer of clouds covering the sky.

It would be impossible for anyone, giving the lack of light, to know where to go or where to look for anything, but the man didn't seem to have any problem in the darkness. He was looking around as if he could see what was around him like he would if it was daytime.

The forest was a big one; the barely visible trees were tall, wide and old, and the entire place seemed dead silent, as if no living creature lived there. But he knew better. He knew that they were there, alone ... The most wanted boy and girl in the entire Wizarding World. They were in that forest, hidden and lost. And now he had returned, after his long journey, after all that had happened, to find them, something no one else had been able to do. He was almost there, about to meet them, about to see them ... after so long.

He took a deep breath, aspirating the cold air of the forest and his distinctive smell, and he remembered the last time he had been in the country. It was summer then ... But he preferred the snow-covered grounds now. His mind wandered to the time he had spent in the mountains, during his long journey, and then to that night in the middle of the storm ... Oh, how things had changed since then! He liked the snow much more now, for starters; it felt ... like being home.

With a last glance around him from under his hood, he began to walk, slowly but with deliberation. No one could know, in the darkness and without any reference, where he was heading for, but he seemed to know _exactly_ the path to follow. His feet weren't making the slightest sound as he moved over the snow, silent as death. He moved like a ghost, albeit a dark one instead of the usual transparent white, avoiding the trees and other obstacles with such security as if the sun was shining above him. He went on for about a few hundred yards, at which point the invisible path he was walking along turned slightly upwards, leading into a bunch of oaks. He moved towards them, and, once there, he found himself on the edge of a tree-free, circular-shaped hollow with a diameter of about seventy feet.

He stopped.

A lonely tent was placed in the centre of the hollow, and no lights could be seen inside it. No sound could be heard coming from it, either. He looked around the hollow, and saw something in the air, a faint glow that surrounded the place: the magical signature of the protective enchantments they had put up to conceal themselves, so no one could see or hear them. They worked. Certainly, no one could have seen the tent or its occupants.

But he wasn't _anyone_. Not anymore. He had wanted to find them and nothing in the world could conceal them from him.

He noticed that no one was keeping watch. It was the hour before dawn, and they were inside, in the warmth, sleeping, awaiting the morning, perhaps dreaming — or hoping — that the new day would bring some change, some progress, _something_ that would made them feel as if they were finally achieving something, either a new clue about the location of the remaining horcruxes or a mean to destroy the one they carried with them.

The horcrux...

Under the hood, the man sensed something strange and frowned. He closed his eyes, concentrating, letting his mind and his soul see what his eyes could not... He let his magic flow, his mind wander, touch, feel ... and then he perceived it, now much more clearly than before, and a sudden understanding came to him. He hadn't expected this, but, now that he knew, it made perfect sense. He was pretty sure they weren't aware of it, and it was better that way, at least for now. It could be useful, and once everything had ended, he'd deal with it.

He extracted a wand from one of his pockets, and waved it slowly before him. The glow indicating the limits of the protective enchantments flickered, and he gave a few steps forward, entering the hollow, silently breaking the charms, but without undoing them and without alerting the people protected by them. He moved forward a few feet and sat carelessly on a rock facing the entrance of the tent. He crossed his ankles, put his elbows on his thighs and became still, his body seemingly relaxed, but transmitting a strange tension, and waited for them to wake up, for them to see him, for the new day to arrive… A day which would bring a lot of changes: to the world, to the war ... and to them.

He was not nervous. After not seeing them for months, after everything that had happened between them, he was neither nervous, nor angry, but perfectly calm. It didn't matter anymore. He wasn't here for them. He was here because it was the right thing to do, even when they were not necessary for him to do what he had decided to do. He could do it, alone … but it was not right, and that was the reason why he was here. There were no feelings for them, no love for them. But there was some sense of _rightness_ in being there, and so there he was.

He fixed his eyes in the tent, silently watching, silently observing ... and waited.


	3. At Dawn

Hermione Granger woke up as the first lights of dawn entered the tent. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared at the jar containing the blue flames she had conjured and which were the only source of heat in the tent. She rubbed her eyes wearily and closed them again, wishing she could fall asleep once more, because she felt as though she had not slept at all. She rolled on the bed, taking care not to awaken the boy sleeping beside her, who was still slumbering and breathing peacefully, and sighed softly. Sleeping with him, snuggling into his warmth, was the only source of comfort for her in the nightmare they were immersed.

Comfort. That was the word. Even though they had not discussed the issue of their relationship in the months after they had to flee, following the fall of the Ministry and the loss of security in their hiding place, she knew that they both were aware of the truth. The lonely months, their desperate situation, the absence of news and the lack of progress in their mission had taken its toll on them. Instead uniting them even more, they had fallen apart slowly. Well, that wasn't entirely true: their _friendship_ was stronger, but their fire, their passion, that _love_ that once had overwhelmed everything and taken over their lives ... had faded out.

A lonely tear escaped her right eye and ran down her cheek.

She loved Harry, she did. She cared for him more than for anyone else in the world. But she wasn't in love with him. Not anymore. And she knew that he wasn't in love with her, either. They were still together, yes. They still shared a bed, but it was no longer with passion, but for comfort, for warmth. They still shared kisses, and still made love at times … but not out of love, but due to the loneliness and the need of human contact.

Another tear followed the path drawn by the first, and she asked herself how things had deteriorated this way. Only six months ago, they were so in love … By then, she had believed that even with the terrible and momentous task they both had ahead of them, nothing could go wrong if they were together. And how could she have not believed it? She was, after all, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, a girl — no, a woman — that could recite word by word dozens of books of spells, charms and jinxes, that could mix a hundred potions without looking at a book. And he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the boy — no, the man — who had escaped Voldemort five times, who had fought a hundred Dementors and killed a basilisk … Surely, together they could do anything.

These thoughts, this hope, had filled her mind while they were at Grimmauld Place, in Sirius' bedroom, the night before their incursion into the Ministry. They had made love, and then he had hugged her against him, and she had felt it. They had a plan, even though it was a bit dangerous; they had a purpose, they had everything Dumbledore had told them and his gifts, and they had love. They could do _anything_, even though the two of them knew something was not right, even when something — _someone —_ was missing, because they had love ... they had love...

She had been a fool. She had been so wrong … more wrong than in any other moment of her life. Because yes, they had entered the Ministry, and yes, they had taken the locket from Dolores Umbridge. But they had had to flee from Grimmauld Place; they had had to leave comfort and security and Kreacher. And now they were alone, completely and absolutely alone. They hadn't been able to destroy the locket, and they had no clue about where the others horcruxes could be hidden. Days had become weeks, and weeks had become months, and they had been isolated, and more times than not, hungry and cold.

They were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, heroes of the anti-Voldemort movement, the Boy Who Lived and a Muggleborn that was the Brightest Girl of her Age, who for months and months had avoided been captured, who had entered the Ministry and freed a group of Muggleborns and then had escaped... People viewed them as a symbol of hope.

But Hermione knew the truth: they were a mess.

_If they could see us now_, she thought bitterly. _ If they saw us, alone and lost, without any idea about what to do next, about where to go…_

Everything in which she had believed seemed to be a lie, and all her hopes had vanished, crushed by the cruel reality. They didn't know what to do, where to go. Dumbledore's guide seemed now a joke. The book he had left her had nothing useful, except for that strange symbol that resembled an eye, the symbol that was also in that grave in Godric's Hollow and in one letter a young Dumbledore had sent to Grindelwald that she had seen in '_The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_', a biography of the headmaster written by Rita Skeeter. It had the shape of a triangle, with a vertical line and a circle inside it, but neither she nor Harry had seen such symbol ever before, and they could not go to some library and research its significance, so it wasn't precisely useful...

And if the book had proven totally useless, what to say about the snitch he had left Harry? A snitch with a cryptic message written upon it that neither of them had been able to decipher.

And, above all, there were all the stuff they had read in Rita's book, which she had took from Bathilda Bagshot's house in Godric's Hollow — where they had barely escaped death. Stuff about Dumbledore being friends with Gellert Grindelwald of all people, about the two of them planning to overthrow the Statute of Secrecy and subjugate the Muggles. Harry had taken that discovery pretty bad, he had felt as if Dumbledore, the man he had considered his mentor, were a complete stranger, someone who had played a cruel prank upon them.

She had argued with him about the whole thing, trying to make him see that it wasn't as awful as it looked like; that, even though some things were undoubtedly true (the book contained copies of true letters written by Dumbledore) it was still Rita Skeeter's work. But it had been useless. And the truth was that part of her agreed with him.

The subject of Dumbledore's life and the events in Godric's Hollow had — or so she believed — caused the definitive end of their relationship as a couple, even though they had not discussed it openly. They were usually quiet and sad; they had not laughed in what seemed like months, and had not shared more than a kiss since they had escaped from there, missing Lord Voldemort by just a second.

Alone and helpless and guideless, that's how they had been. The only good thing that had happened to them, that had helped them, had been a strange event on the first of October; three days after they had broke into the Ministry. They were in the tent, when an odd, bluish ball of light had appeared before them, informing them with a soft, cold and strange voice about a Taboo put upon Voldemort's name. The ball had warned them not to say the name out loud, because it would break the protective enchantments around them and reveal their position to the Ministry and the Death Eaters. And after saying that, without more information, without telling them who was behind the warning, it had vanished.

Back then, that sudden and unexpected help had lifted their spirits, given them more hope. They had just recovered Slytherin's locket, and now someone was helping them, giving them information...

But that hope had died away. The strange bluish ball had not appeared again, had not given more advice or more information. That had been the last time someone had contacted or helped them, and everything had gone downhill from there.

More tears ran down her cheeks while the question sounded again in her mind. _How? How has this happened?_ She suppressed a sob, and brushed her face, wiping away her tears. _How?_

But she knew. Deep inside her, she knew. She knew why they were so miserable, why they felt so alone, so sad. She knew why they had not laughed for so long. Deep inside her, she had known it since the beginning. The reason was not Dumbledore's past, or Godric's Hollow events; that was part of it, but was not the core of _it_. The _true _cause was something much more important.

Ron.

Ron wasn't there. Ron, their best friend Ron, was not with them, because they — _she — _had betrayed him. She had broken his heart, had made him so miserable that he had left, almost seven months ago, and neither she nor Harry knew where he was, what was he doing, or even if he was all right.

_How can he be? _A bitter voice spoke inside her head. _How can he be, if you left him, for Harry? How can he be, if you betrayed him, so he left because he couldn't stand being near you two?_

Fresh tears began to spill from her eyes, and she rolled on the bed, facing away from Harry, and put her left hand over her mouth to suppress a sob. Ron, her first love, the boy who could annoy her like anyone else, but also the boy who could make her laugh and smile like no one could. The boy who had made her cry so much, and yet the one who had made her feel so happy, so complete … and she had left him, had broken his heart, had forced him to leave…

Unable to hold back the sobs anymore, she got off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the door, leant against it and let her body slide until she was sitting on the floor, crying as silently as possible, thinking about Ron's absence, about how she and Harry had dealt with it, during the summer, during the first weeks of their search, protected by their love as if they were inside a bubble, or behind a shield. But eventually everything had fallen apart, and now she had acknowledged the truth she had tried to push out of her mind during those happy months with Harry: they needed Ron. Not because he was especially gifted, or extraordinarily skilled, but because he made them — her — happy. And hadn't she known that truth forever? Hadn't she told Ron that herself?

Dumbledore had allowed Harry to explain everything about horcruxes to her and Ron. He had expected the three of them to stick together like they always had. He had known. And she and Harry had sacrificed their friendship for their romance, and now they were paying the consequences.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," she whispered, sobbing. "And I know Harry is, too. We need you here, with us. We — _I_ miss you, more than you can imagine. We're so alone …"

Slowly, still sobbing, she stood up and washed her face on the sink, thinking about Ron, about her feelings for him. For how long had she been in love with him? For how many years had she longed for their first kiss, before it had happened that magical night, a year ago, in Slughorn's Christmas party? And after so much longing, so much waiting, she had thrown it away for Harry after a few months. For Harry, for whom she had never felt anything more than sisterly love. She could not understand how it had happened, because lately, when remembering the events of last June, everything seemed so unreal, as if it were all part of an odd dream...

And now she was no longer in love with Harry. Was she, again, in love with Ron? She didn't know. How could she be, when she had not seen him in almost seven months, when she didn't know if she would see him ever again? The only chance was to succeed in their mission and survive, and that seemed rather unlikely. And even if they did, would Ron want to see her, or them, again? Probably not.

Sighing, and looking horrible, sad and depressed, she exited the bathroom. Harry was already up, preparing tea in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said, without looking at her.

"Hi, Harry," she answered, getting her clothes and changing into them.

"There are only a couple of biscuits for breakfast," he commented apologetically. "Do you want them?"

"No, Harry. You gave me the best part of last night dinner," she said, without a glance at him. "You need them more than I do."

"Are you sure?" he asked, concerned, gazing at her. "I think you need them, Hermione. You look pale and tired. Is it everything okay?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, everything's fine, Harry," she answered, looking at him and forcing a smile. "You eat the biscuits." It was a lie. Nothing was fine, and both knew it. Harry continued staring at her while she put her trainers on.

"We can share them."

"Eat them, Harry," Hermione ordered, with a tone that resembled the bossy one she had usually used with Ron and him at school, in happier days.

He didn't reply, and poured two mugs of tea for them both. She joined him at the table and they drank and ate silently, like they usually did, before beginning to pack to leave for another location.

"We should go to the south of the country," commented Hermione without true interest. "It will be a bit warmer."

"Good idea," said Harry dispassionately.

Hermione began to pack everything inside her bag. She put her hand inside to take her cloak, and she touched a wooden frame, knowing instantly that it was the drawing, the last gift Ron had given her, as her Christmas present, more than a year ago. She had carried it with her, because it was one of her most prized possessions, a reminder of times gone by —

Times gone by...

She couldn't help but think about her parents. It had been New Year's Eve three weeks ago, and her father had always loved _Auld Lang Syne_, it was the only song he dared to sing. But now her parents were far, far away and didn't even remember her. Had her father sung _Auld Lang Syne_, without knowing that, somewhere, her daughter was with her only friend, alone, lost and sad?

She felt more tears swelling in her eyes, and turned round, so Harry couldn't see her.

"Hermione, I'm going to lift the charms," he announced. "Can you pack the tent?"

"Yeah, in a minute," she agreed, putting her cloak on.

Harry nodded and exited the tent. Hermione was putting her cloak on when she heard him yell in surprise and fear. Startled, she wheeled round instantly, clutched her wand firmly in her hand and ran out of the tent without a doubt, ready to fight. She joined Harry, who was standing still, his wand ready, looking astonished at a man dressed completely in black sitting on a rock facing the tent. The man was wearing a cloak, and had taken off the hood so they could see his face. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, unable to believe what she was seeing.

The man looked at them, and with no emotion whatsoever, spoke to them. "Hello, Harry, Hermione. How are you?"


	4. Reunion

Neither Hermione nor Harry seemed to be able to speak for about half a minute. Hermione couldn't believe her eyes, because it was impossible for him to be here ... It was impossible for anyone to find them ... Finally, with no small effort, she managed to open her mouth and utter, "R — Ron?"

"I know it's been seven months, but I'd expect you to recognise me," he said. The words might seem amusing, but there was no joke in his tone.

As if a lightning bolt had struck her, Hermione's mind began to function again, thinking fast, and she raised her right arm at once, the one with the wand, and aimed it towards the man who looked like Ron, and at the same time seemed so different. He was fitter and broader; his legs and arms seemed more muscled, much stronger; his hair was still ginger, but it was longer and its tone was a bit darker. And his eyes — which, like his hair, had a darker colour than before — were not full of life and joy, but were deep, penetrating and full of secrets.

She pushed these thoughts off her mind and forced the logical part of her to take control. "How do we know it's you?" she asked, and Harry, suddenly aware of her suspicions, raised his arm too. "How do we know you're not a Death Eater polyjuiced?"

Ron looked at her for a moment, and his mouth curved slightly in a smug smile. A smile, Hermione noticed, very different from Ron's ones. "If I were a Death Eater, you would be captured or dead by now, as I've been sitting here for about one hour and a half."

"An hour and a half?" repeated Harry in disbelief. "In this cold? Why didn't you enter the tent or called us, if you're Ron?"

"You were sleeping. It was early and I didn't want to disturb you. I was perfectly fine here; the cold is not a problem for me, so why should I have bothered you?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, and then stared at Ron again. "What?" asked Hermione. "The cold is not a problem? How did you find us? Why are you here? If you're really Ron, we haven't heard from you in months —"

"Ah, you haven't heard from me in months," interrupted Ron with a soft sneer. "Well, I ask myself why. I ask myself why I left you, why I couldn't be with you …"

Hermione's hand trembled, and for a moment, she couldn't look at him. For a moment, she saw Ron again, that awful day, in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, looking sad and lost ... That had been the last time she had seen him, until this moment — assuming, of course, that this person was Ron, because he seemed totally different. She had noticed that there was no emotion in his words. He didn't look sad, or angry, or anything else.

"Ron —" started Harry, his voice full of doubt and regret. "We —"

"Spare me," interrupted Ron. "I'm not interested in you or in your relationship. I left on a journey, and now I've come back. I know what's happening, how messed up things are, and I've decided to do what must be done. That's why I am here, neither to be with you nor to know about how you're doing; something that, I must say, doesn't have the slightest interest for me."

Harry's mouth was open, like wanting to say something and not being able to do so.

"We haven't yet decided that you're Ron," said Hermione, defiantly. "Certainly you're not acting like him. Ron was very angry and depressed when he left. And," she added, "you still hadn't explained how you found us, or how you broke our protective charms without alerting us."

"You don't have to decide if I am Ron or not," Ron answered. He seemed absolutely relaxed, still sitting in the rock, not concerned at all by the wands aiming at him. "I _was _angry, I _was _depressed. I'm not like that anymore, because I don't feel anything for you anymore. I am Ron. Not the same Ron that sacrificed himself in that chessboard, not the same one that faced the Acromantulas for you, Hermione; not the same one that was dragged by Sirius Black into the Shrieking Shack by one arm, and most certainly not the one that left, hurt and heartbroken. But it is me. I've come back, here, not to make any sort of amends with you, nor to hear how sorry you are, but to offer you the possibility of accompanying me." He paused for a second. "So ... do you want to come, or not?"

Hermione felt her bottom lip and her hand tremble at Ron's words. Certainly, this man knew a lot about Ron. And she couldn't help noticing that the moments Ron had mentioned were the same ones she had mentioned to him that night, long ago ... But she was still not sure, because he seemed so different, and, above all, she _felt_ so different towards him...

"Accompanying you? Where?" asked Harry, furrowing his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know," said Ron in a mocking tone, as if Harry was dumb for asking. "Surely you know that Lord Vol—"

"RON, NO!" yelled Hermione warningly.

"—demort has taken over the Ministry and over Hogwarts?" Ron finished.

"THERE'S A TABOO!" Hermione bellowed, frantic. "Saying his name —"

"I know," Ron interrupted her. "But I'm not affected by it, and you aren't, either, while you're with me, so don't worry," he told her, leaving her dumbstruck. "As I was saying, I'd think that, since Voldemort has taken over the Ministry — correct me if I am wrong — he should be stopped."

Neither Hermione nor Harry answered, both of them looking at Ron in awe. "You said his name," whispered Hermione. "Ron never did."

"I told you I've changed. And I am growing a bit impatient. Are we going to be discussing this all day long?"

"I don't trust you," replied Hermione. "You don't sound like Ron. When I look at you I don't feel like you are Ron."

Ron grinned with a mirthless smile. "Perhaps it is because — as I've already told you — I don't love you anymore, I don't care for you anymore and, above all, I don't need you anymore. I've come here because there is rightness in doing so. I feel that you must accompany me. But if you don't want to do so, then I'll leave you. You can go on camping and I'll take care of the … _situation_."

"What do you mean '_take care of the situation_'?" enquired Harry.

"Have you been Confunded recently?" asked Ron. "Because you seem a bit dumber to me, Harry." He paused for a moment. "Taking care of the situation," he repeated. "Putting things right. I mean, finishing off Voldemort, freeing Hogwarts. Isn't it evident?"

"'_Finishing off Voldemort'_?" repeated Hermione, astonished and a bit angry. "What do you mean? That _you _are going to kill him? _You?_"

Ron frowned. "Kill him? Not exactly," he explained, and a dangerous gleam flashed behind his eyes. "But yes, _I_. What's what surprises you so much, Hermione? You think, perhaps, that I'm not as good as the Chosen One? That perhaps I'm not as powerful as Harry? You're setting too much store by what I was, but, as I've told you already, I went on a journey, I changed, I learnt. Or how do you think I've found you here, in the middle of nowhere? How do you think I've broken your charms without you noticing? How do you think I can avoid the Taboo on Voldemort's name?

Hermione didn't know how to answer. Undoubtedly, those were interesting questions.

"And how did you do that, then? Finding us, I mean," Harry asked.

"I can do things you could never dream of," Ron explained. "I know you and your magic. I have means to know what I want to know. I understand magic at its primary, raw level, so your charms are nothing to me. They're easy to detect, and even easier to dismantle. No offence," he added, looking at Hermione, "I'm sure your spellcasting is as good as ever, but that's not enough to stop me. Not now."

"You're not making any sense," said Hermione, staring at Ron disbelievingly and ignoring his odd flattery. "'_Magic at its primary level'?_"

"Yes, that's something I'm sure you'd never read about in any book, and I don't have time to explain it to you," Ron said and took his wand from his pocket. Harry and Hermione pointed theirs in a more menacing manner. Ron raised an eyebrow at them and smiled. "Don't bother," he advised. "I've told you that if I had wanted to attack you, you wouldn't be there."

"That's not Ron's wand," Harry pointed, and Hermione stared at the wand in Ron's hands. It seemed longer than Ron's, was black, and had what seemed like strings of silver across it, connecting the tip and the hilt.

"Yes, it is," Ron replied. "It's my new wand, the wand I've made for myself."

"You made that wand?" asked Hermione. "You must be kidding. Since when has Ron been a wandmaker?" she added, deliberately speaking about Ron as if he wasn't there.

"_I_ am a lot of things I wasn't before," he said, his voice reflecting a little irritation. "I'm growing tired of this." He moved the wand lazily, and Hermione felt the charms surrounding and protecting them disappear.

"WHAT?" she shrieked, astonished and more than a little afraid. "How did you do that? You lifted all the charms! We're exposed!"

"Yes, I can do it faster than you. What's the problem?" he asked, absolutely unconcerned. "Harry was going to lift them, anyway. We are leaving, aren't we? And for being exposed … I'd not worry about it. If they find us, the worse for them."

"We haven't agreed about going with you," replied Harry. "As Hermione has told you, we aren't sure you're Ron and you're not explaining anything."

"Then you can put up the Charms again, I suppose," he retorted. "Well," he added, standing up, "if you don't want to come, then don't. But, as I am here, I think it's better if I destroy the locket."

Harry and Hermione retreated at once, their wands aiming and ready to strike. "What do you know about the locket?" Harry asked.

"I know about the locket and about the other horcruxes too. And by knowing that I think it's obvious that I'm not a Death Eater in disguise, isn't it? Only the three of us and Voldemort know about them."

"Okay," Harry accepted, dropping his arm. "But how do you know we have it?"

"I've told you, I have means to know what I want to know. I know you have it, and I know where the others are. So, can you stop playing daft so we can destroy the locket? Or have you grown fond of it?"

"We cannot destroy it," said Hermione. "We have nothing so destructive —"

"I can destroy it," cut in Ron.

"How?" asked Hermione, confused. "Horcruxes only can be —"

"— destroyed by something so destructive that they cannot be magically repaired, yes," completed Ron, wearily. "I know what horcruxes are and how they work. I think, in fact, that I know more about them than you, so spare me the lecture."

Hermione couldn't answer, astonished as she was. "How do you —?"

"This is getting us nowhere," said Ron, interrupting her. "Sorry," he added and then he gave a tiny flick with his wand, its tip flashed briefly, and Harry and Hermione's wands flew off their hands towards Ron.

"What?" yelled Harry.

"How did you —?" screamed Hermione, suddenly very afraid.

"Now you'll know I don't want to harm you," explained Ron, and dropped their wands onto the snow. "You're disarmed, so I could do anything to you. But the only thing I intend to attack is the horcrux." He was going to say something more, but, instead, he looked down, at the wands he had just dropped and, furrowing his brow, he bent over and took Harry's. He examined it for a few seconds. "This is not your wand," he stated, looking at him.

"No, it isn't," Harry confirmed. "We took it when we broke into the Ministry four months ago. It belonged to a wizard named Runcorn. I just thought it would be useful to have more than one," he explained.

"And why are you using it?"

Harry glanced briefly at Hermione, and she felt her face turn pink. "Well, mine — mine got broken. An accident, in Godric's Hollow," he said.

"Broken?" Ron asked. "You didn't mend it?"

"I tried, but it was useless," Harry answered, dejectedly. "It broke again when I used it."

"Your wand was better than this one," said Ron. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. And it worked much better for me," Harry lamented.

"Do you have it here, with you?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. "Give it to me," Ron requested.

"Why?"

"Don't question me and pass me the wand."

Harry looked at Hermione questioningly and she shrugged, not understanding what Ron wanted a broken wand for. Harry reached into the moleskin pouch Hagrid had given him as a birthday gift and took the two halves of the Phoenix wand. He handed it to Ron carefully and he examined it for a few moments. Then, he dropped it to the ground. Harry was about to say something, but Ron pointed his own wand at Harry's, there was a brief flash of yellow light and the wand resealed itself. With another move of his wand, Harry's flew to its owner and, when he caught it, red sparks burst from the wand's tip. The astounded expression in Harry's face turned into a broad grin.

"Incredible!" he shouted, delighted. "How did you do it?"

Hermione was in awe, too, because wands broken like that simply _could_ _ not _be mended...

"I've told you that I can do things you cannot dream of," he said, and then paused for a moment before adding, "Well, can I destroy the locket now?"


	5. The Dark Shadow

_Before you start to read, just a brief explanation. If you're wondering why Harry and Hermione haven't got Gryffindor's sword or don't seem to know that it can destroy horcruxes, let me say that, as their story is different from what is told in Deathly Hallows, they didn't travelled to the same places, and so they never run into Dean, Griphook, Ted Tonks, Gornuk and Dirk Cresswell. Therefore, they don't know about the sword. And besides, they didn't take Phineas Nigellus portrait from Sirius' house, so Snape has no means to locate them. As it's already mentioned, Harry and Hermione used to sleep in Sirius' bedroom while they stood at Grimmauld Place, so they didn't need to hide the portrait, because they never used the room where it was placed._

* * *

><p><strong>The Dark Shadow<strong>

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, doubt and amazement plastered over their faces, before looking again at Ron. Hermione's mind was burning. Everything was happening too fast. Barely one hour ago, she was crying in the bathroom, wondering about Ron's whereabouts and about how messed up her life was. And suddenly, Ron was back, but totally different, and not only had a new wand — made by himself, according to him — but also new powers, had mended Harry's broken wand, knew where the horcruxes were and was going to destroy the locket. It was too much and she wasn't able to assimilate it all.

"How?" asked Harry. "How are you going to destroy it?"

Ron smiled again, this time with a dangerous grin, as if he knew something they didn't. "I have my methods," he answered enigmatically. "Now, please?" he added, stretching his left arm towards Harry.

Harry doubted for a moment, exchanged a new glance with Hermione, and then, after a brief caress to his wand, he put it in his pocket and removed the locket from around his neck, throwing it at Ron. He caught it and examined it for a bit, an expression of disdain etched on his face. "Horcruxes …" muttered with contempt. "Stupid fool."

"We think that, for it to be destroyed, we'd have to open it, but nothing we tried —" began to explain Hermione.

"It's Slytherin's Locket," Ron said, interrupting her, but without looking at them. "You have to open it with Parseltongue. Isn't it obvious?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other again. "Of course!" shouted Hermione. "Why didn't we think of that? It's evident! But how do you know?" she asked Ron, astounded.

"As I'm rather intelligent, it's not very difficult. Besides, its magic tells me what it does," was his simple answer. "But don't worry, I don't need it to open to destroy it," he added, and dropped the locket onto the ground. Harry and Hermione gave a few steps closer to Ron, who didn't pay them the slightest attention. He was looking at his wand, a great concentration visible on his face, and, after a few seconds, something like smoke began to pour out of the wand's tip, forming sort of a little cloud over it. It was absolutely black, so black in fact that it seemed to absorb light. It began to swirl around itself, and Hermione shuddered, experimenting a cold feeling like the one she got near a Dementor. She noticed that Harry was feeling the same, and knew, instinctively, that, whatever that black smoke was, it was something bad, very bad. _Evil_, she thought.

Ron saw their reactions, and smiled again. "This is one of my inventions, or, more exactly, discoveries," he explained. "I call it _The Dark Shadow_. It's not the world's greatest name, but you'll agree that it's appropriate and describes it perfectly," he added casually. "If you're wondering, I'll tell you that it is Destruction, Destruction in its pure form. It can destroy anything, material or not, and what it destroys cannot be repaired by any means. Only I can control it and nothing can stop it, neither magic, nor any kind of barrier. Nothing. So I think it's the perfect thing for vanquishing horcruxes."

"Everything can be stopped by something," stated Hermione, retreating a few steps. She didn't understand exactly what the shadow was, but it frightened her.

"Not this. There's no charm that can hold it, since, as I've said, it can destroy anything, including magic itself. However, it's true that there is _something_ that can stop it, but as I am the only one capable of mastering it, it doesn't count."

Ron made a soft flick with his wand, and the swirling Dark Shadow flowed towards the locket and got into it. Nothing happened during a few seconds. Then, the horcrux began to shake suddenly, more and more violently, until they heard a distant and horrible scream of pain, and after that, the locket became completely still. It didn't seem destroyed to Hermione at first, but, looking more carefully, she noticed that the jewels on it had no longer its characteristic gleam, as if they had lost their physical properties. And she realised that the entire locket looked … extinct, dead.

"It's done," announced Ron, taking the locket and looking at them.

"Is it?" asked Harry, astonished. "Like that?"

"What did you expect?" asked Ron. "It's been utterly and absolutely destroyed: its magic, its body, its piece of Voldemort's soul." He threw the locket back at Harry, and when he caught it, it opened on its own accord. Harry examined it and then passed it to Hermione, who touched it with disgust. It seemed even colder than before, and, at the same time, it was as if it was not really there, in her hands. She shivered and then looked at Ron with determination.

"We need to know," she said plainly.

"I needn't explain anything to you."

"But we_ need_ to know," she insisted, almost pleadingly. "We — we haven't been together for seven months, Ron. Where did you go? What happened to you? Where did you learn these things? This ... Dark Magic?"

"There is no Dark Magic for me," Ron said. "Magic is Dark because wizards make it be like that. At its raw and primary level, Magic _Is_, plain and simple. And that is the only explanation you're going to get. I don't owe you anything."

Hermione was dying to ask again, to insist, to nag him as she had done millions of times before, but the look in Ron's face was not one she could recognise in the boy that had once been her friend — her love. And his last words stung, even though she knew that it was much less than what she deserved for her betrayal, so she dropped it and stared at the ground, ashamed.

"Ron —" Harry started, nervously. "Ron, I wanna — I'm sorry. I really am. We both are. I couldn't explain to you, last time. We —"

"There was nothing to explain, everything was as clear as water. But I don't care, not anymore," was Ron's cold answer. There was no hate, no rage, and no disappointment in his voice. As he had said, it seemed that he didn't feel anything towards them anymore, and something inside Hermione ached at the idea. "I'm not here for explanations, apologies or anything like that. I've already told you why I came. Do you want to come with me or not? That is the only question that matters."

"What's your plan?" asked Harry, eyeing Ron intensely. "Where's the next horcrux?"

"At Hogwarts," answered Ron. "I intend to go there."

"At Hogwarts," repeated Harry, nodding slowly. "At Hogwarts... I knew it. _I knew it! _He loved the school more than any other place in the world."

Hermione eyes wandered alternatively between Ron and Harry. "But — STOP!" she yelled, forcing the turmoil of feelings out of her mind and trying to use her rational side. Both men stared at her. "We cannot _simply _go to Hogwarts! Snape's there! And I'm sure there is protection — Death Eaters, Dementors ... We cannot go without a plan!"

"Yes, we can," replied Ron.

"NO!" Hermione looked pleadingly at Harry. "Harry, _please_, think! Snape is there, if they catch you —"

"There's no danger," Ron interjected, in an unconcerned voice. "Yes, there are Death Eaters at Hogwarts, apart from Snape. The Carrows teach there too. And certainly, there are Dementors surrounding the school. But you have nothing to fear. You're coming with me."

"No, no, no! This is all wrong! We cannot simply go there!"

"Yes, we can," repeated Ron tiredly. "It's very easy, in fact. I can take care of the Dementors, the Death Eaters and anything else they put in our way, I can assure you that. And, in the worst case … I have the Dark Shadow. Nothing can stop that."

"Couldn't we try to locate other horcruxes first? Perhaps in a place not full of Death Eaters?" Hermione suggested.

"I'm not going to Hogwarts because there is a horcrux there," said Ron, and Hermione and Harry stared at him, both astounded. "That is an extra benefit. I'm going there because I don't want Death Eaters managing the school, torturing students and teaching them a bunch of lies. It is not right. The plan is _freeing _Hogwarts."

"You're mad! Absolutely mad!" yelled Hermione. "How are you going to free Hogwarts? Even if you manage to do so, the instant Voldemort and the Ministry know they will send reinforcements! Perhaps Voldemort himself, if he knows Harry's there! The priority is the horcruxes! We cannot defeat him without destroying them first!"

"Yes, we can. _I _can."

"No, you can't" replied Hermione, defiantly. "He cannot die —"

"I already told you that I'm not going to kill him. It is not necessary. I have other means. I'm going to go to Hogwarts, overthrow Snape and the Carrows, and then … we'll see."

"You're serious," said Harry suddenly, studying Ron's face.

"I am."

"Then I'm going."

"WHAT!" yelled Hermione, taken aback. "Harry, you're not thinking straight! _Freeing Hogwarts_?"

"I trust Ron," He said with conviction. "He's our best friend. You saw what he can do, Hermione. I don't know why, or how … but I trust him. And I am tired of this, of being alone, of not having a plan. Freeing Hogwarts feels right to me. At least we'll be doing _something._"

"Don't fool yourself," said Ron suddenly, his eyes fixed on Harry. "I'm not your best friend anymore. I don't care about you. I'm simply doing what is right. You don't have to trust me. I'm not going to harm you, and that's all," he stated. "Well, get ready to leave, then, I'll be back in a few minutes," he told them, before turning back and vanishing past the border of the hollow.

Hermione turned towards Harry. "Harry, I'm not —"

"Hermione, _please_," Harry begged. "We need this. For the first time in months, I feel that something is right. He's back, Hermione. With us. I want my best friend back."

Hermione sighed. "I want that too, Harry. But you heard him. He's not Ron. Not _our _Ron, at least. He doesn't care about us. He doesn't even hate us. He's changed. We don't know what happened to him or what he did. And that Dark Shadow thing … It scared me," she confessed.

"Yeah, it was scary," Harry admitted. "But, even though he's not the Ron we knew, he _is_ Ron. This isn't the first time we have had a row, and we've always managed to get everything right again."

"We _betrayed_ him, Harry. I don't think things are gonna be all right so easily."

"Yeah, we did. And he left. But he came back. To us."

Hermione's eyes watered and she felt a little hope building inside her. But she didn't want it, because hope could very easily lead to disappointment. She had seen Ron's eyes looking at her. And there was nothing like love or friendship in them. And yet he had returned, and that simple fact had changed their world and their prospects. "I — I don't know. He said that he didn't do it for us."

"Yes. But he came," he repeated, almost pleadingly, as if by saying the words again and again their meaning would become true.

Tears began to flow down Hermione's cheeks. "I missed him, Harry. So much."

"I did, too," he said softly, and moved closer to her. He raised his right hand towards her face, tentatively, and caressed her cheek, wiping away her tears. She closed her eyes and leaned against his warm hand. "Hermione …" he started, and she looked directly at his green eyes, "things have changed between us."

It was not a question.

"Yes," said Hermione simply.

"We're not in love anymore."

"No, we aren't"

There wasn't sadness in his eyes, only great affection. For her. "But I love you, Hermione. Not like before, but I love you. You had always been on my side, supporting me, helping me. I'm sure I wouldn't be here if I hadn't had you as my friend. And I'm glad that I had the chance to love you completely. Despite what that cost us, it was the only thing that kept me alive these past months. But I suppose it is over between us, isn't it?"

Hermione's tears began to spill without control. Harry's eyes were wet, too. "Yes, it is over," she confirmed, nodding slowly. "But I love you too, Harry, so much. You are very important to me, even though I'm not in love with you anymore. And I want you to know that it is not because Ron's back," she added, looking at him intensely.

"I know it isn't," Harry assured her. "I know things started to change months ago. I suppose we clung to what we had because it was the only thing in our lives that was good, and we were afraid of being alone. But I think this is the perfect moment to end it officially, now that he's back. Things cannot be right without him in our lives."

He cupped her face and kissed her on the lips, softly, tenderly, and she leaned into him, pouring into the kiss how much he meant to her, knowing it was sort of a goodbye, that it was their last kiss, the end of something that, though had brought them comfort in bad moments, had also cost them too much.

Then, Hermione saw something move out of the corner of her eye and they moved away. Ron was back, in the border of the hollow, staring at them.

"Ron, this isn't —" Hermione began to explain automatically, but he silenced her.

"I don't care, Hermione, I've told you that. You can kiss as much as you want."

Hermione looked at him, ready to tell him that it was a last kiss, a friendly kiss, but she stopped, because in his face was no rage, no fury, no disappointment, no jealousy. There was nothing. He was telling them the truth: he didn't care, not anymore. He was over her, over them. And that realisation hurt. She didn't understand why, but it hurt, hurt her much more than what she wanted to admit. She felt tears swelling in her eyes again, and turned round to pack the tent, trying with all her heart not to cry.

* * *

><p><em>Sorry, my fellow RHr shippers, for this last 'H/Hr' part, but it was goodbye and had to be done. Besides, even when I wrote it, it never really bothered me. I saw that kiss the way it was: as a very friendly gesture between two great friends who shared too much and went through a lot together._

_This is not a very long chapter, so you'll have next one this Saturday._


	6. Hogwarts

**Hogwarts**

Three minutes later, she and Harry were standing with Ron on the edge of the hollow, waiting. Ron was staring at the forest, his attention away from them, as if he could see or hear something they didn't. He stood still, for a few moments, and then he turned towards them. "Ready?"

Harry nodded, and Hermione did the same, nervous and a bit uncertain. "Are we going to Apparate to Hogsmeade?" she asked. Perhaps Ron was in charge — even if she really didn't understand why or how — but she needed to know the plan. Improvisation was something she wasn't fond of. "And after we do that, what's the plan?"

"We'll Apparate outside the iron gates," Ron said. "There's no need to walk from Hogsmeade to the castle. If there is someone guarding the gates, I'll beat them. Afterwards, we enter the castle, and I'll crush any Death Eater, Auror or Dementor that stands in our way until we reach the Carrows and Snape. That's the plan."

"Just like that?" said Hermione. "Well, with something so ingenious, we have nothing to worry about," she said sarcastically, and snorted.

Ron looked at her for a moment. "Well, I've already told you that that was the plan. Why are you complaining now? Have you a better idea?"

"Well, I don't know, but perhaps we could try something that doesn't imply confronting Death Eaters, Aurors and Dementors all at the same time."

"Why should I avoid that confrontation?" Ron asked. "It's the simple way. They come, and I defeat them, alone or in groups, it doesn't matter to me."

"Perhaps you're more powerful, Ron, but if you were really more intelligent, you should be a little afraid about confronting several Death Eaters at a time!" she exclaimed, feeling a bit more comfortable. Arguing with him felt right. That's how they had worked things in the past, and maybe it would work again.

"I _am _more powerful," he affirmed, gazing at her with growing intensity, and she saw something there, behind his eyes, that dangerous glint again, and she couldn't stop her body from shuddering. "It's them who should be afraid, not me."

And Hermione could do nothing but believe him, because, even though part of her was relieved that he was there with them, safe and sound, she realised that another part was also scared of him and of whatever he had become.

"Any more doubts?" he asked, and when neither Hermione nor Harry said anything, he added, "Then let's go."

He put his left hand on Hermione's left shoulder and the right one on Harry's. Hermione felt suddenly nervous. It was the first time Ron and she had touched since that horrible day in June. She noticed that his hand was surprisingly hot, its heat reaching her body through her robes, as if his body had some sort of energy source inside it.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when she felt darkness surround her, then a constricting sensation, and, an instant later, they were on the snowy top of a mountain, the Castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in front of and below them.

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry, looking at his own body. "That was Apparition?" he asked Ron. "It was fast! And much less uncomfortable than it usually is!"

Ron didn't say anything, he simply smiled smugly.

"Why are we here?" Hermione enquired, looking around them. "Why are we atop this mountain? I thought we were going to Apparate near the gates."

"We'll do," said Ron. "But not until lunchtime, when everyone will be in the Great Hall. Meantime, we can watch the entire castle and the grounds from here."

"We have to wait until lunchtime?" asked Harry, surprised. "That's _hours_!"

"You can take a walk if you get bored," said Ron, his eyes fixed on the school and its surroundings. He had his wand in his hand, twisting it between his fingers, his face contorted in concentration, his head tilted to his right. "They have reinforced the enchantments around the castle," he stated, speaking to no one.

"How can you tell?" inquired Hermione, curious.

"I can see the traces of magic. They're right there, in front of us. These new barriers will prevent any undesirable from entering the grounds. You won't be able to go in."

"And you?" wanted to know Hermione. "You didn't come back to school. Isn't the Ministry looking for you?"

"No," answered Ron. "I left before the end of last term. They think that I went abroad, and they were right. They don't know I'm back."

"You went abroad?" asked Hermione, trying to press the point so she could know more about Ron's whereabouts during the past seven months. "Where?"

"Don't ask questions I'm not going to answer," he told her. His tone was calm, but demanding.

"Well, I have a good question," interjected Harry. "If the enchantments don't let us enter, what will we do? Wait for you at the gates?"

"I'll dismantle this protection as I dismantled yours," he answered, lifting his wand and waving it slowly in front of him, as if he was trying to touch something only he could see.

Hermione looked again at his wand, this time closer, and when he stopped his movements and lowered his arms again, she asked, "So, what's your new wand made of?" She was decided to discover something about Ron. "Can I ... touch it?" she asked, hesitantly extending her arm.

"No one touches my wand," he told her, rather sharply.

"Sorry," said Hermione, lowering her arm. "I'm not planning on stealing it from you, you know," she replied, a little offended. "I just wanted to know —"

"My wand cannot be stolen, it only works for me. It is _my_ wand, in every sense of the word."

"Any wizard or witch can do magic with any wand," replied Hermione almost automatically. She had never heard about a wand that only worked for a specific wizard.

"Not this one," replied Ron. "It is the Wand of Power, the most powerful wand in the world. I made it of an oak tree, it carries one of my hairs inside, with my own blood, so it is mine and mine only, only does my bidding, and I don't want to talk more about it, so stop asking questions."

"Wand of Power?" said Harry, surprised and very interested. "What —?"

"No more questions," said Ron, with a dangerous tone in his calm voice. Hermione frowned. That was one of the multiple changes from old Ron. The new Ron had something, in his eyes and in his voice, which made very difficult not to obey him when he said something.

Hermione turned her gaze towards the castle, where she had lived so many things with the two boys beside her, the first place where she had got friends ... She sniffed and wrapped her arms around her. It was very cold in that place, with the frozen wind numbing her face and hands. Ron noticed and, looking at her and Harry, he waved his wand silently, and a brilliant, golden sphere like a tiny sun burst from its tip, floating backwards through the air and becoming still a few feet behind Ron's back.

"Get closer to it. It'll keep you warm until it's time," he told them.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry, and the two moved towards the sphere. When they got closer, Hermione felt the nice heat emanating from it entering her body and getting her warmer. She smiled at Ron's back. "Thanks," she said. "This is wonderful. What spell did you use? It's handy."

"It's not exactly a spell," said Ron, without further explanation. "Just enjoy it, OK?"

Hermione saw Harry smiling, and knew at once that he was thinking that Ron, after all, did care for them. Her smile grew wider, because she was thinking the same. But suddenly, she remembered the emotionless and unconcerned expression on Ron's face when he had caught them kissing, and the smile vanished, replaced by a serious, sad look.

"Don't you think we're a bit exposed?" asked Harry suddenly. "If they —"

"Don't worry. They won't find us. And if they do ... the worse for them."

Hermione conjured two cushions so she and Harry could sit near the sphere, which not only made her warm, but seemed to stop the cold wind. However, it didn't seem to affect the snow below it.

Harry sat down on her cushion and fell silent. Ron was still staring at the castle, so Hermione looked at the warm and golden sphere, and let her mind wander while the hours passed, thinking about what had happened, how things had changed, and, above all, about Ron, this new, powerful and mysterious Ron, and about what must have happened to him during the seven months he had been away.

"It's time," Ron announced. Hermione turned her head towards him. Nobody has spoken for hours, and she had begun to feel a little sleepy, sitting there in the quiet and in the warm. The golden sphere vanished suddenly, and the cold wind hit her again, erasing the least traces of sleep inside her. Harry and Hermione stood up, and Ron looked at them. "Grab my shoulders," he instructed. "I need my wand arm free. I don't have the intention of giving them a single second to attack us once we Apparate there."

Hermione began to feel a little nervous — and a bit scared, too — but did as Ron had told them, and put her right hand on Ron's left shoulder.

Ron didn't warn them. One second they were at the top of the Mountain, and next they were in front of the iron gates. Hermione was just able to notice two Aurors guarding the gates and see them open their eyes in astonishment before Ron slashed his wand. There was a sudden flash of light and the two men were blasted backwards with impressive force, hitting the walls surrounding the school and crumpling onto the ground like two puppets whose strings were cut.

"Done," said Ron simply, moving forwards to the gates. With a simple flick of his wand, the Auror on his right was lifted from the ground and soared towards his companion, where he fell again unceremoniously. Then, Ron turned round and stared at Hermione and Harry. "Aren't you coming?"

Hermione reacted and looked at Harry, whose astounded expression mirrored the one on her face, and the two of them moved towards Ron.

"How did you —? You blasted two Aurors! With a single move of your wand! How?" asked Harry. "Can you show us how to do that?"

"No, I can't," was Ron's answer. "But why are you so surprised? I told you that I was going to crush them, didn't I?"

"But I wasn't expecting something like this! That was incredible, mate."

"I'm not your mate," Ron retorted.

"Why can't you teach us how to do what you did?" wanted to know Hermione, staring at the Aurors in awe. "It seems useful in a fight."

"You're not like me," was the enigmatic answer Ron gave her, before getting closer to the gates and beginning to move his wand in a big circle over them.

Hermione was going to ask him what he meant, but then something rippled through the air, a wave of something cold passed through her, and the iron gates opened before them.

"It's done," said Ron, looking at them. "Come on, I have an appointment at the Great Hall and I don't intend to be late." He turned round again and entered the school grounds, Hermione and Harry striding behind him

"It feels strange to be back," commented Harry.

"Stay behind me," Ron warned them, "and everything will be OK."

Ron began to walk quicker, and she and Harry strode behind him. Ron's cloak was billowing as he moved, and Hermione couldn't help but appreciate some feeling of purpose on Ron's movements. As he was getting closer to the castle, he seemed more and more confident, more and more sure, that sense of purpose growing, as if he knew perfectly what he must do, and what will come out of it ... He seemed, Hermione realised, unstoppable.

They reached the front stairs and climbed towards the Entrance Hall. Ron opened the oak doors silently, and then they could hear the mixed sound of the voices of dozens of students in the Great Hall. Without pause, Ron walked across the deserted Hall, Hermione and Harry following him, and finally he stopped in the doorway of the Great Hall.

Hermione and Harry did the same, and she felt a pang of homesickness at the sight of the crowded four tables. _But less crowded than other years_, she noticed. _There are no Muggleborns here._

During a few seconds they stood there, watching without being watched. Hermione noticed Harry's face contort in anger, and followed his gaze. He was staring directly at Snape, who was sitting in the Headmaster chair, Alecto and Amycus Carrow flanking him.

Then, they heard a sudden shriek, and the entire Great Hall become silent. Hermione looked to the right and saw Neville, who had stood up, a surprised smile drawn upon his face.

"HARRY! RON! HERMIONE!" he yelled.

Time seemed to stop for a moment. Hermione saw Ginny's head turn towards them so fast that she could have broken her neck, saw an expression of incredulity appear on her face at the sight of her lost brother; saw every student looking at them in awe, and then a yell echoed in the Hall and the charm broke.

"POTTER!" It was Amycus Carrow. He had got up, and was taking his wand. "ALECTO, SEVERUS! It's Potter! Let's grab him!"

Before Harry or Hermione could react, Ron had moved forwards with the agility of a cat, had jumped onto the Ravenclaw table and was now looking, tall and defiant, towards the three Death Eaters. "Your time at Hogwarts it's over," he said plainly, his voice reverberating in the Great Hall, and began to advance towards the staff's table, his steps quick, his cloak flying behind him, his wand ready in his hand.

"Stop now!" Alecto ordered. She, like her brother, had her wand on her hand, and both of them where aiming now at Ron. But Ron didn't stop, he kept going, stepping on food and plates and dishes; and knocking down goblets, bottles and jars; his eyes fixed on his opponents. Nobody else seemed able to move.

"_Stupefy_!" yelled Amycus, and a red spell burst from his wand and flew towards Ron. But Ron didn't stop, he moved his wand lazily, its tip lighted briefly, and Amycus spell seemed to hit something just before Ron and dissolved into a sort of ghostly circular wave that expanded for a fraction of a second before vanishing.

Amycus opened his mouth, surprised, but then, the two siblings threw another two Stunning Spells at the same time. And again, Ron did the same movement and both spells faded into circular waves.

"The filthy blood traitor knows how to play, eh? Well then!" screamed Alecto, frowning and furious. "_Crucio!_"

But, once again, the curse vanished just before Ron. He was now just a few yards away from the end of the table. And then, suddenly, he slashed his wand, it flashed briefly, there was a white light, and Alecto was blasted against the wall, her face bloody, her robes burnt, and she crumpled onto the floor and out of view, leaving a bloody mark on the wall where the back of her head had hit the stone.

"ALECTO!" screamed Amycus, not only surprised now, but also scared. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" he bellowed, turning towards Ron again and aiming his wand at him. "You'll pay! _Avada Kedavra!_"

Hermione heard herself screaming "_NO!" _heard Harry's gasp of fear, and saw the green stream of Death flying towards Ron. But even then Ron didn't stop; he again repeated his tiny wand movement and the Killing Curse disappeared just like the other spells had done. And now he was on the border of the table, and he stopped at last.

"NO! It's not possible!" Amycus was yelling, now retreating from the staff's table. "The Killing Curse cannot be blocked!"

"I'd say it can," said Ron coldly. "Now, if you don't mind, I don't like Death Eaters ruling this school. You're finished, so drop your wand if you don't want to end up like that stupid sister of yours."

Snape was as surprised as everyone else in the Hall, but he had taken his wand, and was also pointing it at Ron's chest.

"Do you want to have a go, too?" Ron defied him. "You are cleverer than them, so I don't really think you do."

"What do you want?" asked Snape.

"To get rid of the Death Eaters, of course." Hermione saw his head turning towards Amycus, who had moved to his left, perhaps trying to check on his sister.

"What did you do to her? Did you kill her?" he demanded, angry and, at the same time, absolutely terrified. "The Dark Lord won't —"

"Your Dark Lord can kiss my arse," Ron answered, and gasps of surprise and fear filled the Great Hall. But Ron seemed perfectly calm, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. "And what if I killed her? Not a great loss, that's for sure."

Amycus face contorted in rage again, and moved his wand as to throw a new curse at Ron, but he was faster, the tip of his wand lightened again, and Amycus' wand shattered in a thousand pieces. At the same time, he was lifted in the air, his arms outstretched, his mouth opened in a terrible and loud scream, and then he became still and silent, suspended in mid air, swirling slowly, weightless, his eyes blank, his face vacant.

Snape looked at his mate, and then, fear etched upon his face, directed his gaze towards Ron. Ron moved his wand again, and Snape's flew off his hand, soared across the entire Hall and fell near Harry, who retrieved it quickly.

"It's over," said Ron at last in a potent voice, looking round. "Hogwarts is no longer under the rule of Lord Voldemort or the Ministry of Magic. You're free," he added, addressing the students.

During ten seconds, no one spoke or moved, everyone too shocked to do anything. And then, as one, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables exploded in delight, the students jumping, hugging and yelling. And Hermione and Harry were suddenly hugged by a lot of people, and were dragged into the Hall, while dozens of questions were suddenly thrown at them.

But Hermione didn't care. Her gaze was on Ron, who was still on the Ravenclaw table, above any other person in the Hall, dominating the situation with his mere presence. A lot of students were cheering at him, but he seemed not to notice as he was facing Snape.

"Very well, Weasley," Snape retorted, and the Great Hall became silent once more. "And now? You've brought Potter here! The Dark Lord will come, and not alone."

Harry raced towards Ron, breaking free of the people holding and hugging him, and Hermione, after a second, followed him.

"YOU!" Harry yelled, pointing at Snape. "You, murderer! You're going to —"

"Shut up, Harry," Ron said, and Harry stopped and looked at him.

"What! Ron, Snape killed —"

"I know what he did." Ron moved his wand, and Snape was suddenly tied in a silver rope.

"The Dark Lord will come, Weasley! Had you not heard me?" Snape yelled.

"If he comes, the worse for him, the better for me. You and I will talk later." Ron stated, and then turned round towards Harry and Hermione, when a soft, but angry voice asked suddenly, "Where the hell have you been?"

It was Ginny. She was glaring at Ron, her expression a mixture between amazement and rage.

"Hello, Ginny," was Ron's only response. He hopped from the table and onto the floor.

"'_Hello, Ginny'_? That's all?" she yelled, her face reddening with anger. "Seven months, Ron! Seven! Without knowing anything about you, without a clue of whether you were alive or dead! You missed Bill's wedding! Do you know how Mum has been, how much she cried? And now you appear here, fighting Death Eaters and — and _with them_!" she screamed, pointing at Hermione and Harry. Her eyes were full of tears, and Hermione felt ashamed. She replayed in her mind, for a moment, the last time she had seen her, how she had confronted them with Ron's goodbye letter clutched in her hand ... She pushed that image off her mind and tried to focus. Everyone was staring at them.

"Hogwarts is free again," said Ron calmly, ignoring her sister's outbursts. "I left because I had to, but now I'm back again, and, as you can see, I'm fine. More than fine, actually."

"Ah, you're back!" Ginny bellowed, raising her hands over her head in exasperation. "Ah, so everything's all right, isn't it, Ron?"

"No, it isn't," Ron replied, not reacting to his sister's angry outbursts. "But it will be."

"Ms Weasley, please, stop!" It was professor McGonagall, who was walking towards them. "I think there are more pressing matters at the moment," she added, severely.

"Yes, there are," agreed Ron. "And the first is making sure that people with Dark Marks cannot deliver any message we don't want to be sent." And with this, he turned round, pointed at Draco Malfoy with his wand and dragged him towards them through the air and over the tables, making him land in front of him. "Hello, Draco."

"Leave me alone!" Malfoy yelled, struggling, when his hands, against his own will, entwined themselves at his back. "Release me!"

"Shut up," Ron said, and Malfoy became silent at once. His mouth was still moving, but it wasn't emitting any sound. Ron gave a tiny flick with his wand and Malfoy's jumped off his pocket and into Ron's hands. "Now, I suggest putting him and Snape in the next room, while we talk."

"I'll do it," piped up professor Flitwick, who was hurrying towards them, and pointing at Malfoy with his wand, moved him out of the Great Hall.

"We'll wait for you in the staff room," Ron informed professor McGonagall. "You take care of the students, as you're the new Headmistress. Meanwhile, I'll make sure no owl can leave the grounds, and shall reinforce the enchantments around the castle so we don't receive unwelcome guests."

"OK," accepted McGonagall, a little taken aback by Ron's leadership, and began to speak to the other professors and the students.

"You three, come with me," Ron said to Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

They followed him through the castle and into the empty staff room, in an uncomfortable silence, Ginny throwing Hermione and Harry deadly glares. Once inside, Ron went to the window and began to move his wand slowly. It seemed to glow with pure energy, and then began to emit brief flashes of light for about a minute. Once he had finished, he turned on the spot and faced them.

"Well, no owl will be able to leave the castle now, and nobody will be able to get inside. Phase one is completed, the school is safe. We have free time."

* * *

><p><em>I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter, on Tuesday<em>


	7. Preparations

**Preparations**

"Wonderful," said Ginny ironically, her arms tightly entwined, her face full of anger. "Now I would like to hear an explanation about where have you been, and about why are you here with _them_."

"Ginny —" started Hermione.

"Spare me, Hermione," Ginny cut her in, giving her a fiery look. "What you did ... Never in my life would I have imagined that you both could do something like that to Ron. But I think we've already had this talk last year. What I want to know is about you," she said, staring at her brother. "You told me in your letter you had to leave, that there were things you had to do. Explain yourself."

"I'm not going to explain anything, so don't bother."

"WHAT?" shrieked Ginny, outraged. "The hell you're not! Do Mum and Dad know that you're here? Wait until I tell them —"

Ron looked straight into Ginny's eyes, and she stopped, shuddering. "Shut up, Ginny. Where I was, what I did, is none of your concern, is that clear? And I don't want anyone else asking, do you understand?"

"But —"

"Enough!" Ron cut her in, his tone slightly louder than the usual in him since he has returned. Hermione shuddered, and noticed that everyone else in the room has felt it, that dangerous _thing_ in Ron. "Enough. I've come here to do what must be done. Hogwarts had to be freed, and now it is. But there are a lot of things to do before everything is over."

Ginny was looking at her brother as if she could not believe her eyes, and Hermione realised she was afraid of him. "Why am I here?" she asked in a low voice. "If I cannot ask questions —"

"You can," replied Ron. "But not about me."

"We were worried about you!" she said, her eyes wet again. "And you never bothered to write! Never bothered to — to tell us if you were OK, or —" she lowered her gaze and fell silent, not being able to find the words to express her feelings.

Hermione studied Ron's face while he was watching his sister cry. There was no love in his eyes, or concern, or sympathy. Hermione wondered if her — _their_ — betrayal had destroyed Ron's ability to feel. Could a person be so heartbroken that he would never feel anything anymore?

"I couldn't write," said Ron at last. "But I am fine. Better than fine, in fact, so you don't have to worry about me anymore."

"You don't seem fine to me."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't look, or act, like yourself. You hadn't hugged me. You don't seem to care for me. The things you did in the Great Hall ... You stopped the Killing Curse! As if it was nothing!"

"Yeah, that's true," piped up Harry. "How did you do that?"

"With magic," was the simple and enigmatic answer.

"Has he been with you all this time?" Ginny asked, her gaze moving between Harry and Hermione.

"No," Harry answered. "He found us this morning. He was there when we woke up."

"How did he find you?" she asked, interested. It seemed that, if Ron didn't want to give her answers, Ginny was determined to get them from elsewhere, even if it meant that she had to talk to Hermione and Harry. "Nobody has been able to find you. The Ministry has been looking for you, everywhere, ever since your break in."

"We don't know," said Hermione. "He didn't explain how he did it. He hasn't explained anything to us, in fact. We know what you know."

"Well," said Ginny, and her expression hardened. "It is the least you deserve, after what you did. But I don't understand why you don't explain to me, I'm your sister," she added, looking again at Ron.

"I'm not the same Ron that left seven months ago," Ron said. "So don't expect me to act like before."

Nobody spoke for the next few minutes. Ginny stood up and paced back and forth the room. "Well, and you two?" she said, looking at Harry and Hermione with a reproachful glare. "What have you been doing? A little honeymoon while everyone else in the Order was trying to fight You-Know-Who?"

Hermione felt hurt by her words. That was what everyone thought? That they had been on a holiday?

"We were doing what Dumbledore wanted us to do," said Harry. "It wasn't a pleasant trip. It hasn't been exactly funny."

"We're not together anymore," blurted Hermione, looking at Ron and feeling her face grow hot. However, Ron's expression did not change a bit.

Ginny's, on the other hand, turned into one of disbelief, and looked at Harry.

"It's true," he confirmed.

"Why?" demanded to know Ginny.

"We don't feel the same anymore," was Hermione's answer. She was staring at her hands to avoid the other's gazes. "Something was not right."

"And you realise that now?" Ginny snorted. "A bit late, I think. Or perhaps being together was not so much fun without having Ron around you to suffer?" asked Ginny, hurtful.

Hermione stared directly at Ginny, terribly hurt and offended by her words.

"What are you implying?" she asked, and then remembered that she, like the rest of the Weasleys, believed that Harry and she had started a relationship before Ron's departure. "We never wanted to hurt Ron!" she exclaimed, looking at him, pleading with him to understand.

"Well, you could have fooled me," Ginny retorted.

"Ginny, it isn't —" intervened Harry.

"I know what happened —" started to say Ginny angrily, interrupting Harry.

"No, you don't!" yelled Hermione, interrupting Ginny.

"YES, I DO!" Ginny yelled back. "So don't bother trying to make excuses. Honestly, you two do have a nerve, coming here with him after what you —"

"Ginny, stop it!" Ron said in his new commanding voice.

"What?" she asked, turning to her brother. "You've forgiven them? After _everything_? What do you think about this?" she asked.

"About what?"

"What they're saying. That they're not together anymore."

"I already told them that I don't care about what they do or about what they feel. I'm here to stop this war, not to discuss relationships or any other rubbish."

"Well, you certainly cared when you left your entire family after they got together!" yelled Ginny, fuming. "That's what you told me, didn't you? In your letter! I'd expect you to be a bit angrier with them."

"Well, I'm not angry with them. I left and I've changed, I've told you that."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Ginny muttered gloomily.

"What are we doing here?" asked Harry, trying to change the subject. "Snape was right; Voldemort could be here at any moment. Shouldn't we —" he stopped and threw a quick glance to Ginny before looking again at Ron, "I don't know — find _it_?"

"We'll do," said Ron, "after I speak with McGonagall."

As if she had heard her name being pronounced, Professor McGonagall entered the room in that instant.

"Well," she said, without a pause, "Snape, Mr Malfoy and the Carrows are under custody, and the students are back in their common rooms. The other teachers are patrolling the corridors and watching the school."

"Perfect," said Ron.

"How is the sister, Alecto? Is she fine?" enquired Hermione.

"Alive, but severely wounded," explained McGonagall. "Amycus is still in that sort of trance you put him in, floating in mid air" she added, looking at Ron. "What kind of curse or jinx is that? I've never seen a spell similar to that one. And blocking the Killing Curse —"

Ron raised a hand, stopping her, and McGonagall voice faded.

"Doesn't matter what spell is. What matters is that, sooner or later, Voldemort is going to find out what happened here."

"He surely is, given that you don't stop saying his name," interjected Ginny. "Don't you know there is a Taboo on it?"

"I'm not affected by the Taboo," Ron answered. "And neither is the castle now. But even without that, he'll find out."

"Then we should barricade the school!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "And you must flee, Potter! If he —"

"I'm not going anywhere," replied Harry.

"Don't worry, professor," Ron said. "Even if they come, I've reinforced the enchantments around the castle. But I have no intention of waiting here." He stood up and walked along the room. "I've freed Hogwarts. The next step is to free the Ministry, and then finishing him off."

Everyone in the room looked at Ron in awe. "What?" said Hermione, "What are you on about? _'To free the Ministry'_? You're mad."

"You said the same thing this morning, and here we are, sitting in the staff room, while the Death Eaters are in custody," countered Ron.

"But you cannot finish him off!" exclaimed Harry. "We haven't ... fulfilled the task first."

"It is not necessary," said Ron. "I've never had the intention to destroy all the horcruxes before going after him."

Harry and Hermione gasped. What was Ron doing, revealing the secret Dumbledore had entrusted to them?

"Hor — Horcruxes?" stuttered Professor McGonagall, horrified. "He has made _horcruxes_? More than one? Is that why he didn't die when he attacked you?" she asked Harry.

"What is a horcrux?" asked Ginny, looking alternatively at each one of them, confused.

"RON!" Harry yelled. "It was a secret! If Voldemort discovers that we know about them —"

"It doesn't matter, I've already told you. I've never said that I was going to destroy the horcruxes first. I intend to do it in the end, yes, but the priority is to finish the war."

"But he cannot be finished off while the horcruxes exist!" replied Hermione. "I thought we had come to Hogwarts to destroy the one hidden here."

"I've already explained that. I told you that there was one here, but that the plan was to free Hogwarts, not to destroy the horcrux."

"Why did we come here, then?" asked Harry. "Enlighten us."

"Because it was the right thing to do," said Ron. "Hogwarts must not be under the grasp of those maniacs. It is the first blow against him."

Harry put his head onto his hands and covered his face. He sighed before speaking again. "We — cannot — kill — him — if — we — do — not — destroy — the horcruxes!" he said, as if he were speaking to someone particularly thick and slow.

"He cannot die, true. But I don't have the intention to kill him, I've told you that already this morning. You don't listen to me?"

"And what do you intend to do, then? Send him to Azkaban?" asked Harry sarcastically, glaring at Ron.

Ron looked at them with an intense gaze that made them all a bit uncomfortable. His dark blue eyes seemed to darken even more.

"Voldemort is as abomination. He has maimed his own soul. Beings like him should not be. Lives like his should not be lived. He shouldn't exist. And this is what I intend to do: destroying him so that he doesn't exist anymore. Finishing him completely, and it won't matter if there are horcruxes yet, because he will be nothing, so there will be nothing to preserve. He simply won't exist, neither alive nor dead."

"How?" asked Hermione. "What will you do?"

"You'll see," said Ron. "What I'm going to do to him has never been done to any other living being. It is something terrible, worse than death, worse than the Dementor's Kiss ... and only I can do it."

"Is someone going to explain what the hell you are speaking about?" demanded Ginny.

"Later," said Ron. "Professor, the castle is safe for now, but you should send someone to the gates. There are two unconscious Aurors there. They won't wake up for hours, but it's better to retrieve them, so nobody can see them. We don't want the Death Eaters alerted too soon. Tomorrow morning I'm going to the Ministry and then it won't matter, but today —"

"I'll tend to it," said McGonagall. She stood up, but, before leaving, she faced Ron again. "Mr Weasley, may I ask what —?"

"No, professor. That's not important."

"Fine," she accepted. "We'll have to make arrangements for you three, so you can spend the night in the castle," she added before leaving.

"Well?" asked Ginny in an impatient tone.

Harry sighed and began to explain horcruxes to her, trying to make her less resentful towards them. Hermione, on the other hand, looked at Ron and thought about what he had said, about finishing Voldemort without killing him. Was that possible? A day before, she wouldn't have believed it, but now ... She had seen so many extraordinary things in Ron ...

And she couldn't stop herself from comparing him to the old Ron. The old Ron was insecure and a bit lazy, while this one seemed pretty confident and decided. He had traced a path in his mind, and nothing could part him from it. That was something she also did, but the thought didn't bring any comfort to her, because she _didn't_ want Ron to be like her. In a lot of ways, Ron complemented her. Ron had always been the one that made her laugh, that made her relax, that infuriated her. But this new Ron was too serious, too focused. The old Ron made her felt warm, needed ... loved. But not this Ron. This Ron didn't need her, didn't make her feel warm, and, for sure, didn't make her feel loved. The old Ron was impulsive, this new one seemed pretty calmed, seemed to have everything planned and under control. Again, that was also how her mind worked, but she didn't need that. She liked the old, impulsive Ron, even though sometimes he drove her mad.

_But the case is that I loved the way he could drive me mad,_ she thought bitterly. _I miss him. The old him._

That was nothing new. She had missed him during all those months. But now, he was before her, so close and, at the same time, farthest from her than ever. And she missed the old Ron even more than before, because he was gone, buried inside this new powerful Ron, perhaps, forever.

She felt the pang of tears in her eyes, and stood up. Harry was still explaining horcruxes to Ginny, who couldn't help looking horrified by them. "I — I want to take a walk," Hermione said. "I'll see you later."

"Are you OK, Hermione?" asked Harry, concerned.

"Yes, I am. See you later." She threw a last glance at Ron, but he seemed as emotionless as he had been since his return.

She left, walking through the castle towards the grounds. She didn't know why she felt like this all of a sudden. She only knew that she wanted to hide, to disappear. Seeing Ginny's glares, hearing her reproaches, was like reliving and old nightmare once more. She sped up, getting away from her two best friends, the two boys that had shared so much with her, the two boys that had always protected and defended her, the two boys that she knew had needed her so much for so many years ... Harry, who had always been like her brother, until last June, when those feelings towards him had sprung like a bonfire, burning and destroying what she had with Ron, whom she had believed to be the love of her life ... and now she was alone, completely and well-deservedly alone.

She exited the front doors and ran, a stream of tears spilling down her cheeks and into the cold wind.

* * *

><p><em>Next chapter, this thursday!<em>


	8. Secrets

**Secrets**

She walked around the grounds for what seemed hours to her, until her hands and face got numb because of the cold and her feet were almost frozen; but she didn't mind, because the pain inside her was far worse.

_And I deserve it_, she thought, _for what I did to him._

She ended up standing under the beech tree near the lake where she, Harry and Ron had spent so many summer afternoons, studying, talking or simply relaxing. She conjured some kind of cushion and sat on it, her legs bent, her arms over her knees, and rested her chin over them, looking at the frozen waters of the lake, remembering the good moments she had spent in that place before everything had gone to hell, especially _that_ _one_, when Ron had dragged her there after the Charms exam, had embraced her and then had told her —

Her daydream was interrupted when, suddenly, something warm and pleasant enveloped her, running through her body and banishing the cold and the numbness from her frozen limbs. She shivered with the lovely sensation, so very similar to being embraced lovingly near a fireplace.

"You'll catch a cold," came Ron's voice from behind her, and she almost jumped on the spot, startled. She turned her head and saw him leaning carelessly against the tree's trunk, his long fingers caressing his wand absentmindedly. She hadn't heard him approaching her. "You scared me," she confessed, a bit embarrassed. "I don't know how you move so ... silently," she added. "But well," she sighed, "I don't know how you do anything you do, do I?" she commented, with another sigh, and then asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he answered.

"Why?"

"You've been crying," he stated suddenly, startling her, and she turned her head so he could not see her face.

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't care."

"Then why do you ask?"

"I didn't ask anything. I said that you've been crying."

"I have been crying, yes. I like to see that you've become more observant," she snapped, feeling shy and vulnerable and trying to conceal it.

"Is it because you and Harry have split up?"

Hermione stood up quickly. The warm sensation inside her — caused by Ron, obviously — had completely erased the numbness in her limbs. She stared at him, frowning. "Why do you ask? You said you didn't care," she replied defensively, confused.

"I don't. I'm just curious. Is it for Harry?" he asked again.

"No," she answered. "The thing between Harry and me has been dead for some time. I just — I just don't know anything anymore," she confessed, frustrated. "I've messed everything up. I did this to you, and you left and now you're not Ron anymore and — and —" she shook her head.

"What do you mean, 'I did this to you'?" he asked.

"This!" yelled Hermione. "You're not jealous, you're not angry, you're not impulsive, you're not — you're _just _not you!"

"You didn't do anything to me, Hermione."

"YOU LEFT! You left because Harry and I betrayed you! You left, Ron, and I never had the chance to — to really explain —" she shook her head and fell silent, sobbing.

"Explain what, Hermione? I saw it. There was nothing to explain."

"I know! I just — just wanted you to know that we didn't it intentionally, that we didn't mean to hurt you — But I couldn't, you wouldn't let me, and then you left."

"I did. But the journey I travelled ... that was my decision. My choices are mine, not yours. Yes, what you did to me was bad. Was terrible. You'll have to cope with it. But it is in the past now. What happened happened, Hermione."

"Why are you being nice to me?" she asked, desperate. "You came here, you warmed me with your magic, instead of yelling at me like I deserve. For Heaven's sake, Ron! _I_ _cheated on you with Harry_! I need you to be angry at me, I need you to — to be my Ron," she concluded, fresh tears beginning to spill again from her eyes.

"I'm not your Ron, Hermione. And I know what you did, but as I said, that's in the past. I yelled at you already, didn't I? Back then. You want me to yell at you? And what's the point in doing so? We can't change the past, and we have more important things to deal with right now."

"It is not in the past. You don't care about me anymore, or so you say, but you warmed me, a moment ago." She paused, opening and closing her mouth without forming words. Finally, she sighed and said, "I — I don't understand you."

"I warmed you because you were cold. The fact that I don't care about you doesn't mean that I want something bad happening to you. Despite what you did to me, you're a good person; you'll do a lot of great things, I'm sure. You're good to the world, Hermione."

"You don't hate me." It wasn't a question.

"No, I don't."

Hermione looked down at the snow, and a heavy silence fell over them until Ron spoke again. "What do you want, Hermione?"

"I don't deserve what I want."

"A lot of people don't deserve what they want, but that doesn't stop them from wanting it. What is it?"

"I want to be your friend again, Ron, even though I don't deserve it. I suppose you don't believe me, but we missed you so much ... _I_ missed you so much. We tried to find you, we tried everything! And then the Ministry fell and — and —" she closed her mouth, unable to speak anymore.

"You tried to find me," repeated Ron.

"We did."

"I didn't want to be found," Ron said. Hermione stared at him, and he returned the stare, and she felt an odd sensation, as if his penetrating eyes were baring her soul, leaving her completely exposed to him.

"You said you wanted to be my friend," commented Ron a moment later. "Are you sure that's _exactly _what you want?"

"It's much more than what I deserve," she declared.

"And it is not possible, Hermione," he said. And, like before, there was no sadness in his voice. He was simply, Hermione noticed, stating a fact.

"Why not? If you hated me, as you should do, I'd understand, but if you don't, then why —?"

"Maybe if I hated you, there would be a possibility," he cut her in, "as it would mean that I care about you in some way. But I don't. It is simply not possible for you and me to be friends," he affirmed. "It has nothing to do with what happened between us, or between you and Harry. Things will never be as once were, you'll have to live with it."

She felt a lump in her throat and sadness spreading through her entire body. It hurt. It hurt too much.

"I'm worried about you," she said, sniffing. "What you intend to do, going to the Ministry, facing Voldemort ... He is too powerful, Ron! I know you're more powerful than before, but ... How do you know you have the power to beat him?"

"Do you believe that Harry has that power?" he asked her

Was that a trick question?

"I — I don't know. Dumbledore believed it, and the prophecy —"

"The prophecy, yes," said Ron, nodding. Hermione stared at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

His lips curved in a small smile. "Prophecies say a lot of things. Sometimes, they are completely fulfilled; other times, they only become partially true. A prophecy is not a fact, and, by the way, they're usually vague and can be interpreted in a lot of ways. Prophecies start with a fact that is always true, but there's no real guarantee that they will become _completely_ true."

Hermione looked at him, amazed at Ron's words. It was odd to see Ron explaining things to her, especially things so meaningful and important.

"And what about _this_ prophecy?"

"This is a curious one," Ron explained. "And a topic to discuss in another moment. Just let me say that perhaps you're not interpreting it correctly. I've told you, they are vague. Prophecies are related to a very strange and complex branch of magic, very difficult to understand, even for me."

"Well, if you say so ..." she shrugged, not really understanding what he was saying. "But you didn't answer my question. How do you know that you have the power to beat him?"

"I've got a Source. That's how."

"A what?" she enquired.

"A Source. A fountain of magical power and knowledge," he explained. "Every wizard or witch has some magical power that belongs to them, that comes with their soul. But I've found my Source, which is something entirely different, much more personal and much better, a pure connection to Magic itself. And mine is a very good one; very powerful, I daresay. I take my magic and knowledge from it, and that is how I do what I do, and how I know everything I know about magic. And, of course, I have my wand. It helps a lot," he explained. "You don't have to worry about me."

"I don't think I understand it completely."

"I don't expect you to. But it is nothing of your concern. Now, let's get to business. I came for you because I was sure you'd want to be there when I talk to Snape. Am I mistaken?"

"No, you're right," she said, trying to straighten herself and wiping the remaining tears from her face and eyes. "Let's go."

o o o

Hermione followed Ron through the doorway of the room where Snape was being held. Her former Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was bound to a chair. Hermione saw that Harry, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Slughorn, Hagrid, Ginny and Neville were also in the room.

"Are you OK?" asked Harry, concerned, when he saw her. She gave him a weak smile and nodded.

"Hermione, it's so good ter see yeh," said Hagrid, grinning broadly and enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug. "How do yeh doin'?"

"I'm fine, Hagrid. Thanks. And you?" she said, smiling.

"Things had bin rough here, yeh know, but now everythin's goin' ter be a'right, isn' it?"

"Yes," she answered in a reassuring tone, not sure about it at all.

"I knew yeh three would make amends," Hagrid continued. "Yeh've always bin together. That's how it has ter be." Hermione tore her gaze apart from Hagrid's, but nodded.

"Well," said then Ron, moving towards Snape and getting everyone's attention, "let's begin." He waved his wand and a brief light covered the entire room for a moment. "Nobody will be able to hear what we're saying," he announced to the others, "so we can speak freely."

"I don't understand why you want to speak to him," said Harry angrily. "He killed Dumbledore!"

"He did," affirmed Ron. "But the question is _why_."

"Because he's a two-faced traitor and a bastard," piped up Ginny. Everyone in the room looked at her, astonished. Harry smiled at her, but his smile vanished when she looked back at him. "I could say the same about you," she told him spitefully. Harry dropped his head, defeated and ashamed.

"The thing, Severus, is that _I _already know why you did it," continued Ron, as if Ginny had not spoken.

Snape scowled at Ron. "What?"

"Yes, I know. I know what happened. I know that you killed him because he asked you to."

"WHAT?" bellowed Harry, irate and even offended. "What nonsense is this? Why would Dumbledore want to —?"

"He was already dying, wasn't he? His time was almost over."

"How do you know —?" asked Snape, utterly surprised.

"Answer, please."

Snape continued to stare at Ron for a few seconds as if he were seeing him for the first time, and then spoke: "Yes. The curse in his hand was spreading. He called me one summer night, almost two years ago. He was almost unconscious because of a cursed ring he had put on his finger. The only thing I could do was to contain it for a certain amount of time. A year, at most. So yes, when I killed him he had only a few weeks' time left."

"Is that true?" asked McGonagall, a hand on her chest.

"It is," said Ron, and spoke again to Snape, "So, he asked you to kill him, saving Malfoy in the process."

"Yes. He knew Draco wouldn't be able to do it, and that the Dark Lord would kill him and his family for his failure."

"And Dumbledore wanted you to remain as one of Voldemort's most loyal and useful servants, so you'd be entrusted with the task of being Headmaster instead leaving the school to the mercy of the Carrows." It wasn't a question.

"Exactly," confirmed Snape, more and more surprised by Ron as the conversation progressed.

"I don't understand," said Ginny, who, like everyone else, seemed paralyzed by Ron's revelations. "The Carrows had been torturing people, they made us use the _Cruciatus_ Curse on other students!" she exclaimed, and Neville nodded fervently.

"Yes, they have been pretty nasty, I'd say," he added, pointing towards the cuts and wounds on his face.

"But no one has died," replied Snape, looking towards them. "That was my job. I had to play my cards so they believed I was on their side. I assure you I had to restrain them a lot of times; they wanted to be much more brutal."

"You did what you had to do," said Ron softly. "You've been brave and loyal, professor. I'm sure she is proud of you, of the path you finally chose."

Snape mouth twitched, his eyes opened wide in surprise and asked in a trembling voice, "What are you talking about?"

"You know _whom_ I'm talking about."

"How do you —?"

"It doesn't matter," Ron cut him in. "What matters is that now, you are free. Free to live as you want to. You fulfilled your promise, your duty. You can let it go."

"No, I didn't!" yelled Snape, beside himself. "There are things Potter needs to know, things that —"

"I know those things. I'll be the one to tell him," Ron cut him in.

"What things?" intervened Harry, looking alternatively at Ron and Snape. "What're you talking about? And who's _her_?"

"I think Harry has the right to know," said Ron, addressing Snape.

"I won't tell him," responded Snape. "I won't tell him about me and her — about — I won't tell him!" he shouted, almost mad.

"Okay, as you want," accepted Ron calmly. "It's your decision."

"No, no 'okay'!" shouted Harry, angry again. "What are you keeping from me?" he demanded, his gaze travelling back and forth between Ron and Snape.

"What you need to know, Harry, I'll tell you about later," Ron explained, turning towards him. "But don't worry; it is not very important anymore." He looked again at Snape, who opened his mouth as if he wanted to retort. "You'll have to stay here for now," he said, not letting him speak. "We don't want anyone knowing you're not a Death Eater." And, with a flick of his wand, set him free.

Snape nodded. "I don't recognise you, Weasley," he confessed, staring at him and looking astounded. "You don't seem the same at all."

"That's because I'm not the same at all."

"Ron, I want to know what's happening here," demanded Harry again.

Ron silenced him with a single glance, and then walked towards the door. "You and Hermione, come with me. We've finished here."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick look and followed him out of the room. Leaving the others inside, completely astonished and bewildered. Hermione's head was spiralling. So Snape was not really a Death Eater? He hadn't really murdered Dumbledore, but had bought him a year's time, and then had killed him _on his orders_? And that strange talk about a mysterious woman ... Who was she?

"Ron," Harry began, stopping suddenly when they were far enough from the room where Snape was and they could not be heard, "I want you to explain, and now."

"You can't demand anything of me," stated Ron, turning towards him. "You'll know in due course, and I can promise it will be soon. But now that I have some free time, I'm going to dispose of the horcrux hidden here. Are you coming?"

"Yes," answered Hermione quickly, trying to avoid a confrontation. "Of course we're going, aren't we, Harry?"

Harry grunted, not convinced, but nodded. "Where is it?" he asked.

"In the Room of Requirement, of course," Ron answered, as it was the most obvious thing in the world. And suddenly, to Hermione, it was. Voldemort must have asked the Room to become a place to hide the horcrux ... but when?

"The night he met Dumbledore in his office," muttered to herself, a sudden realisation coming to her mind. "Dumbledore's office is on the seventh floor, like the Room."

"What?" asked Harry, looking at her. "What have you said?"

"You're right, I think," said Ron. "I think that was his real intention when he came to the castle. He knew Dumbledore was not going to give him the post, so he had to have another goal."

"Oh," nodded Harry, understanding. "Yes, I think you're right. But, how do you know that the horcrux is in the Room of Requirement?" he asked, as they climbed up the stairs.

"Let's say I can feel them. Horcruxes are a very rare magical objects, it's easy for me to trace them. I searched and found them all before going to meet you this morning."

"But why? You said that destroying the horcruxes is no longer needed to finish off Voldemort," commented Hermione.

"It is not necessary, but they're dangerous and evil objects. I'm not going to leave them so anyone can find them and be possessed. Destroying them is the right thing to do, and that's why I'm doing it."

They reached the corridor where the Room was located. Ron stared at the stone wall for about ten seconds, and then the hidden door appeared before their eyes. They entered, and Hermione exhaled a surprised 'oh!'. The Room was bigger than any other time she had been there, and was full of mountains and mountains of junk and discarded things.

"It's _here_?" asked Harry in disbelief. "I've been here! It's where I hid Snape's Potions book! And Dumbledore never knew?"

"Never, I suppose," assented Ron.

"It makes sense," muttered Harry, as talking to himself. "I'm sure he discovered this room while he was a student here, perhaps while he was trying to find the hidden entrance to the Chamber of Secrets ..."

"But it is insane!" piped up Hermione. "Hundreds, perhaps thousands of people have been storing things here ... Anyone could have found the horcrux!"

"He is arrogant, Hermione. He thinks that no one is as clever as him. I'm sure that, when he discovered the Room, he believed that no one had seen it before. Or, at last, no one knew how to make the Room change into this kind of storeroom."

"It is insane," repeated Hermione, shaking her head.

"Yeah, it is," Ron said. "But I think Harry's right. He is too full of himself."

"It's like with the horcruxes," said Harry. "The night he returned, he told the Death Eaters at the graveyard that he had gone further than anybody in his way to achieve immortality. He thought — he thinks — that his Death Eaters are stupid, that they could never discover his secret ... But he was wrong. Regulus Black did. He understood."

"Well, he created horcruxes," said Ron, "so he is not as clever as he thinks he is. Let's destroy the one here."

He walked along the aisles created by high piles of junk and broken or hidden things, Harry and Hermione right behind him, until Ron stopped right before the bust of an old warlock with a wig and a tiara over it.

"There it is," said Ron, pointing at the tiara.

"It is _that?_" yelled Harry. "I cannot believe it!"

"Why not?" asked Ron, looking at him.

"_I_ put the tiara over the warlock ... to mark the place where I hid the Prince's book!"

"Curious," said Ron, and took his wand in his hands.

"What is it?" asked Harry, getting close to the statue. "Why did he choose this tiara?"

"It was Ravenclaw's," explained Ron. "It has her motto written on it: '_wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_'."

"Are you doing the same thing you did to the locket to destroy it?" asked Hermione.

"Yes." Ron eyed the tip of his wand and, after a few moments, the swirling, black smoke that was the Dark Shadow began to flow from it. Instinctively, Harry and Hermione moved backwards, trying to get away between them and the cold, destructive shadow. It moved smoothly through the air and got inside the tiara, which, like the locket, began to shake after a few moments, let out a distant scream of pain and became still.

"Done," said Ron. "Let's get out of here."

"Perfect," said Harry as they moved towards the door. "Can I know what the hell are you keeping from me now? Since when do you share secrets with Snape?" he asked, scowling.

"I do not share secrets with Snape. I'm simply aware of them," Ron explained. "But, as I've already said, I'll tell you soon."

"Why not now?" demanded Harry. "We never kept secrets. We —" He fell silent under Ron's penetrating gaze.

"Don't go that way, Harry. I can certainly remember a few secrets." He paused for a moment. "Look, I'm telling you this one last time. I'm doing what must be done. I don't need you both to do it. I could have come here directly and leave you in your tent, alone, hungry and lost in some mountain or forest, but I didn't; I went for you. So I don't owe you anything. I'll tell you what you need to know when I consider it is the right time to do so, and end of discussion. Now, let's find McGonagall to arrange how we're going to spend the night."

Neither Harry nor Hermione said anything, and both followed Ron towards the staff room.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you liked it, especially the RHr interaction. I know it's not the 'usual' R/Hr interaction, but well ... things are like they are. Anyway, next chapter, on Saturday._


	9. At Night

**At Night**

Dinnertime caught them in Gryffindor's common room. Ron was leaning against the wall near the window, looking out of it and caressing his wand. He didn't seem especially interested in the conversation taking place in front of the fireplace, where Harry and Hermione were hearing the news from Neville, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender. Ginny wasn't there. Neville had told them that, after coming from Snape's interrogation, she had gone to her room, pretty upset.

"— so you see," Neville was saying, "it didn't look like Hogwarts. The entire year has been an absolute nightmare."

"But we put up a fight, we kept it going on, we did. Dumbledore's Army," Seamus added, patting Neville on his back. "Neville has been great, the heart of it all. With the help of Ginny and Luna, of course." Neville smiled sheepishly.

"Speaking of Luna," said Hermione. "Where is she? I didn't see her in the Great Hall at lunch."

Neville expression turned sad and serious. "We don't know. His father kept supporting Harry in _The Quibbler_, and the Death Eaters took her from the Hogwarts Express on the way back for Christmas. We haven't heard of her since then." Neville's worry was evident.

"And Dean could not come, of course," added Seamus, depressed. "He is Muggleborn, so he had to flee. No one knows where he is or — or if he's OK."

"He is," piped up Ron, without looking at them. Every head turned towards him. "He's on the run, but he's OK. And Luna is fine, too. They're holding her in the cellar at Malfoy Manor."

"Malfoy Manor?" repeated Harry, the rage evident in his voice.

"How can you tell?" asked Lavender, frowning. Hermione had noticed the glances Lavender had been throwing at Ron. And had noticed, too, that she seemed less happy to see her and Harry than the others. It was evident that she knew what had happened, or at least she had a slight idea, and that she was angry that she, Hermione, had got Ron and then cheated on him when she had also fancied him. Hermione didn't blame her for being furious.

"I know."

"_You know?_" Lavender pressed. "Just like that?"

Ron didn't answer, and Lavender looked at Harry and Hermione interrogatively. They shrugged. "He is not very talkative about how he does what he does," explained Harry.

They fell in an uncomfortable silence. Hermione was aware that the matter of what had happened at the end of last year was on everyone's mind. She didn't know what they did or didn't know about it, and they didn't seem to have the courage to ask.

"Tell us about you," said Neville, breaking the silence. "The last thing we knew about you was that you entered the Ministry and freed a lot of Muggleborns."

"Yes, we did," nodded Harry. "But they almost caught us, so we had to flee. We've been on the run, camping in the countryside, ever since."

"Why did you break into the Ministry?" Parvati asked. "Everyone was ecstatic about it, but it was a bit too risky, wasn't it?"

"There was something we had to do," Harry said, without more explanation.

"And what about Ron?" Lavender asked. She didn't seem to have a problem bringing the subject up.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, a bit ashamed. Hermione was about to answer, looking at the floor, when Ron spoke.

"I was away. I found them this morning and then we came here. It's everything you need to know, so stop asking about me."

Lavender looked hurt. "You don't need to be so harsh," she said. "I didn't do anything to you. You're my friend and I was curious."

Silence fell again over them. Hermione could tell that their housemates were dying to know more about Ron, about them, but they were also scared of him. Then, Ginny came down the staircase, breaking the uncomfortable moment, threw a glance at Ron and spoke to Neville. "I'm going to the Great Hall for dinner, Neville. Do you want to come?"

"Yeah," said Neville, getting to his feet. He looked at Seamus, Lavender and Parvati. "You?"

"We'll go soon," answered Parvati.

"We'll go, too, Neville," said Hermione, "if you don't mind," added, but looking at Ginny, who acted as if Hermione had not spoken at all. "Ron — you're coming?"

"Yes. I have to speak to McGonagall, by the way."

The five of them exited the common room in silence, Ginny ahead of them. They had barely walked twenty feet when Ginny suddenly turned and faced Ron.

"Have you told Dad and Mum you're back?" she asked.

"No, I haven't."

"Bloody hell, Ron! What are you waiting for?"

"I'll tell them in due course. There's so much to do tomorrow."

"Yeah, you're going to the Ministry. And did it come to your mind that Dad works there, Ron? He'll see you!"

"Yes, Ginny. As I am fairly intelligent, I'm perfectly aware that Dad works there, so stop nagging," Ron said, a bit irritated.

"I don't like what you've become," muttered Ginny miserably. "I liked you more before, even if you were less powerful and you acted like a prat half the time."

"You don't have to like it, but things are like this, so you'll have to accept it."

"Just — just give me a hug, Ron," begged Ginny. Hermione had never heard Ginny beg like that, and her heart sank with sadness and pain.

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't feel anything for you, Ginny."

Hermione saw tears in her eyes. "You asked me not to hate you. In your letter," Ginny said in a low voice, "But you're making it very difficult." She let out a sob and sprinted off, leaving them behind. Harry looked rather sad and Neville sighed, but Ron's expression didn't show any regret.

"You could have been less cold to her," reproached Harry. "She's your sister!"

"I'm not here to comfort her, hug her or anything like that. She's alive and safe, that's what matters. And you should stopping giving advices on how to treat people," he added, and Harry's face flushed with shame.

"She — she hasn't been the same this year," piped up Neville, embarrassed, without looking at anyone. "She was very worried about you, Ron, and about your family. She never laughs or jokes, like before. She — she missed you," he finished.

"I know," Ron said simply.

"Look," said Neville, stopping, and looked at Ron bravely. "I don't know what exactly happened last year, as everything occurred very quickly and you didn't come back in September. Ginny doesn't speak about it, but I know that you two ... eh ..." his voice tailed off, looking at Harry and Hermione. "Well, you know. But now you're back, Ron. And she needs you."

"I can't give her what she needs," stated Ron.

Neville seemed out of words after that statement, so he resumed walking. Harry seemed pretty ashamed and upset, and Hermione was feeling worse and worse, knowing how much pain she and Harry had caused everyone.

They descended the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall, where they ran into Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle and some others from Slytherin. Pansy scowled after seeing them, but Hermione noticed they all seemed a bit afraid of Ron.

"Where is Draco?" Pansy asked, trying to sound defiant. Then she looked at Hermione, and, without waiting for an answer, she added, "You have a nerve, Granger, coming here when you're a —"

"Get out of my way," said Ron, interrupting her. His voice sounded calm, but carried an unmistakable order, "if you know what is good for you."

Pansy retreated instantly, but Crabbe and Goyle grunted and clenched their fists.

"Oi, filthy blood traitor! We know how to cast the _Cruciatus_ Curse now," said Crabbe, menacingly. "Watch what —"

Ron's gaze fell on him, and Crabbe fell silent and gave a step back instantly. "Do you?" Ron asked with a soft but threatening tone that sent chills running down Hermione's spine. "The Carrows knew, too, but it didn't do them any good, did it? Do you think, perhaps, that you are better than them? Do you want to have a go?"

Ron caressed his wand, and the Slytherins stepped back, now clearly scared. Hermione didn't blame them. Tall and broad, with his dark clothes and his penetrating and dangerous gaze, Ron projected a shadow of mystery, power and danger that no one could ignore.

He advanced towards Crabbe slowly, his eyes fixed on him. "I don't hurt innocent people, but you're not innocent. I know what you are capable of, I can see it, and I don't like you. So I advise you not to cross my path, because I assure you, Crabbe, you don't want to see me angry." He stared at all the Slytherins. They all seemed rooted to the spot. "Let me tell you something: the reign of terror in this school is over. And soon, the Ministry will be free from the claws of that fool you know as Lord Voldemort." A lot of people flinched at the name. "So I advise you to behave, or you'll all go the same way as the Carrows."

He turned towards the Great Hall, and Harry, Hermione and Neville followed him. Once inside, while the other three sat on the Gryffindor table, Ron went to the staff table and exchanged a few words with Professor McGonagall. While he was there, food began to appear on the tables, and Hermione felt her stomach rumble at the sight. She hadn't eaten since breakfast — a poor breakfast, to say the truth — so she helped herself to a good portion. After what she and Harry had been eating during their exile, this was like heaven.

They were busy eating when Ron came back and sat opposite them, staring at the ceiling, without acknowledging — apparently — that almost every student was looking at him and whispering.

"You aren't hungry?" asked Harry, surprised, after swallowing a great gulp of pumpkin juice.

"I don't need food," said Ron. "The Source gives me all the energy I need. I can enjoy a good meal, however, and certainly this seems pretty tasty," he added, and took a chicken leg from the dish in front of him.

"'_The Source_'?" asked Harry with a frown. "What's that?"

Ron ignored the question, and his eyes roamed over the students, observing them, so Hermione repeated to Harry what Ron had told her that afternoon.

"I don't understand it."

"Neither do I," said Hermione, "but that's nothing new today, isn't it?"

No one spoke for a while. Hermione observed the students as she ate. A lot of them looked like if they had been beaten badly, and not only the older ones, but a few first- and second-years too. She felt a burst of hate towards the Carrows, Voldemort and every person who had supported or accepted his regime. Her wandering eyes fell then on Ginny, sitting beside Neville. She seemed depressed and was barely eating, her eyes on her plate but unfocused. She tore her gaze from her, and noticed that Harry was eyeing her too, with sadness and ... longing? She suppressed a sad smile. Of course, Hermione had noticed the way Harry had started to see Ginny during their sixth year at Hogwarts, and had suspected that his feelings for her were no longer brotherly, but before anything could have happened between them, that sudden, unsuspected love had sprung between Harry and her ... and everything had been ruined. Now, it seemed that Harry was feeling something for Ginny again, and Hermione truly desired that everything could go well for them. Harry deserved happiness, and so did Ginny.

But what about her? She looked at Ron, who was still contemplating the Great Hall and the students, no longer eating. Was she starting to love him again? Or perhaps she had never stopped doing so, but her love for him has been clouded by the uncontrollable passion that had surged between her and Harry?

She wasn't sure, but, even if she did feel something for him, it didn't matter, because Ron didn't care for her ... didn't love her anymore. And she had no right to be sad or complain about it.

In the Great Hall, the students began to stand up and head for their respective common rooms. McGonagall had arranged two of the Guest Rooms for Harry, Ron and Hermione to use. Harry and Ron would share one, and Hermione would use another.

Neville passed past them, gave them a smile and said goodnight, but Ginny only threw them a glance and left without a word.

"You're being too cruel to her," commented Hermione, watching Ginny's form, as they began to walk towards their rooms.

"You too?" Ron told her, giving her a penetrating glare. "You are no one to tell me how I should treat people." Hermione lowered her gaze, feeling her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. "She'll be fine," continued Ron. "When this war is finished."

"I'm not so sure," muttered Hermione, and looked at Harry, who stared back at her. "You could speak to her," she advised, smiling softly.

"What?" Harry asked, a little shocked.

"I saw how you were looking at her, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything for a bit, staring at his own feet. Then he turned his face towards her again, an apology etched on his face. "Hermione, I —"

"It's OK, Harry," she said, smiling again reassuringly. "I'm happy for you. Ginny has always had a crush on you, you know. I really hope you two will be okay," she added, trying to sound confident.

"This is strange," Harry commented, a few minutes later. "We — we just broke up this morning ..."

"I know," she said to him. "But we both know that things had not been the same for a long time."

"Yeah."

"Are you OK with it, Ron?" Hermione asked. Ron was walking ahead of them, apparently ignoring their talk, and turned his head.

"I am OK with what?"

"With Harry fancying Ginny," explained Hermione. Harry seemed a bit scared, as if he feared Ron would hex him just for fancying his sister.

Ron stared at him. "Something in me wants to curse you just for thinking something like that, after what you did," said Ron, and Harry opened his eyes wide in fear and gave a step back. "But, to say the truth, I don't care. It's none of my business. It's up to you and her, so you can do whatever you want," he added, and Harry released his breath, relieved.

Hermione, on the other hand, felt sad. Even though she had hated Ron's outbursts about Ginny's boyfriends, they had been a solid proof that Ron cared. It was obvious that now he didn't.

They reached the guest rooms and Ron headed for Harry's and his.

"Be ready at eight o'clock," he told Hermione.

"OK," she agreed, opening the door. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hermione," said Harry, going into the room behind Ron.

Hermione lingered for a moment, watching the boys disappear inside their room and then got into hers, which had a comfortable bed similar to the ones in the Gryffindor Tower, a desk, one chair and a small bathroom.

She closed the door, sighed and dropped onto the bed, tired.

"I need a shower," she muttered to herself, and then shivered. They had not lighted the fireplaces earlier, and the room was cold. Sighing, she went into the bathroom and took a quick shower. The water was pleasantly hot, but the coldness in the room was too much, so she dried herself with her wand and put on her pyjamas and a dressing gown, and then she lay down on her bed, sighing again. After so many months sharing her living space with another person, the idea of having an entire room just for her once more was strangely depressing, and made her feel even lonelier than how she was already feeling.

She shuddered, and stood up to draw the blankets and to slide in, but, before doing so, she heard someone knocking on the door.

"Come in," Hermione responded, a bit surprised. The door opened, and Ron entered, closing the door behind him.

"Ah, it's you," said Hermione, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. "I thought you and Harry were going straight to bed. You must be tired."

"I'm not," replied Ron. "I don't need to sleep more than I need to eat."

"Ah," uttered Hermione. She was getting accustomed to these strange things about Ron. "Did you want something?"

"Our room was cold, so I assumed yours was, too. I can warm it for you."

"That would be nice," she nodded, smiling a bit, and slapping herself mentally for not thinking about doing a Warming Charm herself.

Ron took out his wand and moved it in a circle, the tip emitting a yellowish glow, and suddenly the entire room was pleasantly warm, including the bed and the sheets in it.

"Thanks, Ron. This is much better," she said, and took off her dressing gown to put it in her beaded bag. Suddenly, she became aware that she was standing in front of Ron only in her pyjamas. Of course, Ron had seen her countless times dressed like this, though never without less clothes. Harry had been the only one with that privilege. Why was she feeling so ... naked, then? Was it because of his new penetrating gaze? Was it because now she felt so strange around him?

She looked again at him, a bit nervous. He was staring at her, but his eyes weren't showing any want or desire. One part of her felt a bit disappointed.

"You don't have to be nervous," Ron commented suddenly. "I've seen you in those pyjamas a lot of times."

"I — I'm not nervous," she stuttered, feeling herself blush.

"It's OK," he said, in a sort of a reassuring tone. "You don't need to lie to me. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, so I'll leave now. You can sleep without worries, I'll be awake and alert."

"But I don't want you to leave," piped up Hermione before thinking what she was saying. Once she realised what she had said, she lowered her gaze to the floor, her face burning with embarrassment. "I'm sorry!" she apologised. "I — I don't know what I'm saying. I —"

"Do you want me to stay here?" he asked her. "To keep an eye on you?"

"I don't know!" she yelled in exasperation, and threw herself, face down, onto the bed. "I don't know what I want. This ... this is too much, too strange. Everything's happening too fast. I'm so confused ..."

"Nothing can happen between us, Hermione," he explained. "I thought I had made that point clear this afternoon."

"You did," said Hermione, her voice a bit muffled because she was speaking against the blankets. "But I cannot stop wishing — wishing that — I'm sorry," she repeated, at the verge of tears. "You just came back, after leaving because of what happened between Harry and me, and now here I am, talking nonsense ... I have no right."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. Feelings are irrational, Hermione. You cannot control them. Love is nothing to be ashamed of."

Hermione rolled to her left side, facing Ron again, her mouth open in surprise.

"You love me. There's nothing wrong with that. You cannot stop doing so, as I couldn't stop myself from loving you when I left. I desired nothing more that to throw away that feeling, so I tried, and tried, and tried ... but it was useless. I loved you, it hurt, yes ... but that was how things were."

Hermione began to cry again silently, regret and pain overwhelming her. It was hard, very hard, to hear about how much heartache she had caused him.

"Why do y-you think I l-love you?" she asked, a bit shocked.

"Let's say that ... I can see it. And I won't deny that it surprises me. You left me for him." There was no emotion at all in his words, except a slight surprise.

She was going to say that, technically, that wasn't true, that he was wrong, that things hadn't happened the way he believed. She also wanted to know how he had finally succeeded in forgetting her, but, before she could say any of those things, he spoke again.

"But you don't really love me, Hermione. You love who I was, not who I am now. You cannot love the new me more than the new me can love you. Part of you is afraid of me, and with a good reason. You'll have to cope with the fact that the old me is now gone. The person you love does not longer exist."

Hermione didn't answer, and looked at her hands. He was right, and she knew it. But something inside her continued to see Ron, her Ron, inside this new powerful, serious, confident wizard, making her heart ache with love and longing. She was being foolish, but, as he had said, love is irrational.

A sudden movement from Ron broke her line of thought, and she looked at him. He was frowning and turning to look at the door, which opened a second later to let a pained Harry in.

"What happened?" asked Ron.

"He knows," was the simple answer from Harry, who was rubbing his scar. "He knows and he is very angry."

"What do you —?" began to ask Hermione, now concerned, but Ron interrupted her.

"How does he know?"

"The Aurors at the gates," explained Harry. "They didn't report to the Ministry when their turn ended. He knows something has happened, because they tried to contact Snape and the Carrows, and they couldn't. He is worried and angry. I think he is going to send someone to check, and soon."

"The Aurors, yes ..." nodded Ron to himself. "Well, that was bound to happen. There's nothing to worry about, they won't be able to trespass the protections I've placed," he said out loud to Harry and Hermione. "However, I'm going to watch the gates. You two go to sleep. You need to rest."

"No!" bellowed Harry. "If the castle is going to be raided —"

"No such thing will happen," replied Ron. "As I've said, they won't be able to enter with the enchantments I've put around the grounds."

"But —"

"No 'buts'. Do as I've told you, Harry. Everything is fine." And with that, Ron went out.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried glance.

"Do you think that we're in danger?" Harry asked.

Hermione bit her bottom lip and thought about it for a few seconds before answering. "No. If he says the enchantments won't let anyone in, I believe him."

"I suppose you're right," Harry agreed, sitting on her bed absentmindedly before looking again at her. "Hermione, you've been crying again."

"No, I haven't," she denied, knowing perfectly well that Harry knew she was lying.

Harry knew that she knew, so he didn't say anything more, and simply stared at her, waiting.

"I think I still love him, Harry."

"I think you really never stopped doing so," Harry commented, with a sad smile.

Hermione looked at him, her expression between confused and surprised.

"It's OK," he said. "I always suspected it, you know. I saw your expression at times, when we were on the run. Even before, while we were still at Grimmauld Place. But I realised it today, as I realised that I — that I still feel something towards Ginny ... Maybe I always knew, deep inside, but didn't acknowledge it because we were, well —"

"A bit overwhelmed?" helped Hermione.

"Yeah. Overwhelmed, though I think it was more than just a bit," commented Harry, and his sad smile widened. Hermione smiled back at him, but her smile had not a bit of humour, either.

"But we were in love, weren't we?" she asked. "I know I was."

"We were," said Harry, looking at the window with a thoughtful expression, his smile had vanished.

"Then why, Harry? If we still fancied — or loved — them, what happened?"

"I asked myself that hundreds of times," Harry said. "I don't know. Who knows how love works, Hermione? I don't. Does it really matter? Things are the way they are. We were platonic friends. Then we fell in love. Afterwards we fell out of love, and now we have back the feelings we once had for the people we hurt. I don't think the 'why's' or 'how's' are important."

"Yes, you're right. Ron is not the Ron I loved, and he cannot love me back. And even if he could, he wouldn't, and for a good reason."

"Our love lives are completely screwed up."

"Ginny never gave up on you, not really," Hermione told him. "You still have a chance at happiness, Harry. Take it."

"She hates us, Hermione. She will never forgive us for what we did to Ron. And if I am sincere, I think we don't deserve forgiveness. Ron was my first friend. He shared his family with me, he's always been loyal to me, and what did I do? Snog his girlfriend."

"It was I who cheated on him."

"What I did was cheating, too." Harry covered his face with his hands. "Merlin, I don't know why he hasn't cursed us both into oblivion."

"Because he doesn't care anymore," answered Hermione, depressed. "He knows I still love him, he told me so, but he doesn't care. I think that he cannot love, Harry. Not anymore."

Harry scowled at her. "What are you suggesting? That he's some sort of monster like Voldemort?"

"No, of course not! But you heard him. You saw how he acted towards Ginny. He does what is right, yes, but he doesn't do it because he cares, but because it is the right thing to do."

The two of them fell silent.

"What do you think happened to him? During these past months?" asked Harry after a while.

"I don't know. I've never heard about anything called a '_Source_' before."

Neither Hermione nor Harry said anything for a few minutes. Finally, Harry stood up and told Hermione he was going to bed.

"Feels strange to have an entire room just for myself," she confessed. "I was accustomed to the company."

"Me too," said Harry. "I suppose that was the only reason we were sleeping on the same bed, since Godric's Hollow. Maybe even before then. You were my only comfort, Hermione, during those horrible months. I'm glad to have you as a friend, very glad."

"I'm glad too."

They both hugged tightly, both of them relishing in the closeness to the only friend they now had.

"It's going to be strange, sharing a room with Ron again," Harry commented, releasing her. "To tell you the truth, I'm a bit scared."

"He said he didn't need to sleep," said Hermione, "so I think you'll be on your own."

"Doesn't need to sleep?" asked Harry, shocked. Hermione shrugged.

Harry sighed and, with a 'goodnight', left the room. Hermione got under the covers and looked at the window, and fell asleep thinking about the past, about that night, before all her mistakes and all the pain.

* * *

><p><em>It's time to go back to the past, to happier times. On Tuesday!<em>


	10. December, 1996

Sorry for the little delay but FF seemed not to be very cooperative!

Certain detail in last chapter caused a little uproar. It didn't really surprise me, you know, though some reactions were harder than I expected. I'm talking, of course, about the fact the Harry was Hermione's first lover. I had a pleasant discussion with RyanRow02 and zlatan25 about it. As I told them, that fact is not essential to me. To me! I lost my illusions about the 'first times' when in HBP Ron kissed Lavender and we knew that Hermione had kissed Krum.

But let me say that there is a good reason for that. In advance, I'll tell you that Ron and Hermione got closer to do it (though they never saw each other without clothes) once, but something prevented it. I have a good reason to do this, as I have a good reason for letting her doing it with Harry. It's not that it pleases me! After all, I was in the front row during the ship wars! In due course, you'll understand.

I've read thousands of fics during the past eight years. I know the issues we usually face when reading them. Don't think, for one single moment, that I hadn't thought about what you are telling me in your reviews when I was writing this. Believe me, I did. Most — or all — of your concerns will be addressed in the story, I can assure you that.

Now, for you R/Hr shippers who hadn't abandoned this, a little treat. It's the night of the first day, and it's time to accompany Hermione down the memory lane and find out what happened thirteen months ago, in one of the happiest nights of her life.

This chapter is dedicated to the lovely **xxxdevilishxxx**, who kindly revised it for me! (If someone likes Draco/Luna and wants to write a story, do it for her!)

**December, 1996**

_Hermione was feeling completely un-Hermione-like. And it wasn't because the reflection in the mirror that stared back at her looked different from her usual self, as she was wearing her dress robes and her hair was a little sleeker. No, she felt different because of the giddiness inside her. Feeling giddy was not something she was accustomed to. After all, she wasn't a typical girl, was she? She didn't read _Witch Weekly_, didn't gossip and most of the time she didn't care about how she looked. Okay, she knew she wasn't an ugly girl. She even knew — especially since the Yule Ball — that she was a good-looking girl; she had discovered during the Yule Ball that she was a decent-looking girl, and perhaps could qualify as, dare she say, pretty. But she cared about her looks much less than, for example, Lavender. She knew that there were much more important things in life, like having good heart, cleverness, friendship, bravery and doing what it was right. She wanted to be appreciated for how she was on the inside, and not for how she was on the outside._

_And she knew that Ron liked her for who she was, and that was one of the things she loved about him._

_Of course, Ron was also a sixteen-year-old boy and he could be pretty stupid sometimes, especially around Veelas or if Madam Rosmerta was within sight. And during those times, when he looked at other pretty girls, she couldn't help getting irrationally jealous. Irrationally, because she knew she was pretty too, but, overall, because she didn't want Ron to look at her the way he looked at those women._

_No matter how much she wanted to be the only girl that Ron looked at, she didn't want him to notice her for _just _her looks and body__. She adored when Ron stared at her in awe for something she had done, or for something she had discovered or planned. When he looked at her that way, he made her feel things that no one else could._

_She knew Ron was not the most mature boy of his age; that was for sure! So, she had waited years for the appropriate moment when they could — perhaps — take a step further in their relationship and become something more than friends. She had hoped, when the Yule Ball had been announced back in their fourth year, that he would ask her to go with him. That day, when Professor McGonagall had informed them about the Ball, she had found herself thinking about whom she wanted to go with. And a mere second later, the answer had bubbled inside her head, an answer with the form of her very first visit to Hogsmeade; that day they both went there, alone, and had had one of the best times of their lives; that day Ron had made her laugh so much, he had patiently listened to her explain things about the village's history, and he had told her a lot of things about the Wizarding World she didn't know yet. That day they had had their first butterbeer together, had enjoyed tasting the many sweets Honeydukes offered, had visited the Shrieking Shack and the Post Office ... and had enjoyed each other's company immensely._

_Yes, she had wanted Ron to ask her, the same Ron that had once defeated a troll with a charm she had taught him, the same Ron that had spent a day vomiting slugs for her. And for a few days, she had let herself hope, even dream, about going to the ball with him, about dancing with him, and laughing, and joking ... and, perhaps, even kissing him at the end of the night ... But her dream had shattered to pieces the moment she had discovered that he had other ideas. And just like the insensitive prat he sometimes was, he only wanted to go with the prettiest girl that would have him. The fact that she was his friend, or that they could have so much fun together when they were not bickering — and sometimes, even when they were bickering — seemed to mean nothing to him. That revelation had been an unexpected blow to her, so she had stormed off to her room, so sad and hurt that she had almost cried._

_But in the end, she had accepted that fact. Ron had not, after all, to like her in that way. If he did want to go with some pretty, brainless girl, well, it was his choice. Was she a bit sad? Yes, she was. Hermione felt that sometimes they complemented each other so perfectly that it was as if they were, dare she say, _meant to be_. Not that she believed in destiny, divination or such rubbish, but —_

_So, when Viktor Krum had asked her to go with him, she had accepted without hesitation. And even now, two years later, she was glad she had said yes, because Viktor had made her feel truly beautiful, in every sense of the word, for the first time in her life. He had chosen her when half of the girls in the school were literally throwing themselves at him. He had seen her, the real her, for who she was, and not for how many hours she spent in front of the mirror to look more beautiful. He wanted to go to the ball with someone that could appreciate him for _him_, not for how famous he was. And she wanted to go with someone that __valued her personality__ more than how sensually she could bat her eyelashes. She had understood perfectly what he wanted, and he had made her feel ... adequate._

_And when, a few days after, Ron had asked her — if what he had done could be called asking — she had felt only the slightest regret for accepting Viktor's offer. She had even felt a little pleased by the fact that Ron was enduring the agony of not finding a date. She had wanted Ron to ask her because he really wanted to go with her, not because he hadn't been able to find another date. After all, she had some pride and dignity._

_In the end, she really expected that she could spend time with him and Harry at the Ball, as they had always shared everything, and have fun. Viktor was, after all, Ron's idol, surely they could get along well. And perhaps he would comprehend his mistake and, after he had matured a bit ... something could happen between them._

_But, of course, things hadn't worked out as she had planned. During the few days before the ball, he had been asking her who her date was with an almost obsessive interest that she had secretly enjoyed. However, the night of the Ball ..._

_The night of the Ball had been a disaster in that aspect._

_She was very nervous, as she had never dressed like that before, and she had to admit that she looked pretty. And Viktor, very gallantly, had told her so when they had met in the Entrance Hall. But the shock of the night had been the expression on Ron's face. Incredulity first, and fury after that._

_At first, she had not understood him when he had accused her of 'fraternising with the enemy'. Wasn't Viktor Krum his idol? Wasn't he, Ron, the one who was always talking about him and trying to get his autograph? And after all of that there he was, accusing her of horrible things, making her feel as if she wasn't good enough for a boy to like her simply for her. He had made her feel so furious, so hurt that for a moment she had wanted nothing more than to disappear and forget that she had ever met a boy named Ronald Weasley. But, after thinking about it for a bit, she had decided she wasn't going to let him spoil her night. Viktor had proven to be a very good partner, eager to speak and to listen about everything, besides a good dancer, and so she had left Ron and Harry and had come back to him, and the two had had a lot of fun. And in the end, she had even let him kiss her; she had let him give her her first kiss, and she had enjoyed it. He had been gentle at first, and then a bit more passionate. It had been a good kiss, yes. However, while she was kissing him, she had realised that something wasn't right._

_Because Viktor, with his chivalry, his kindness and his devotion for her — yes, he had shown her absolute devotion during the night — simply was not Ron._

_And when the Ball had finished, and she was walking towards the Gryffindor Tower, that thought had kept turning around in her head, and she hadn't known how to feel about it, because Viktor had been wonderful, and Ron had been an insensitive prat. But, she had realised, the fact was that she _liked_ that insensitive prat, because he could made her laugh and relax like no one else, like that wonderful day in Hogsmeade, and next instant he could drive her absolutely mad, like when they had had the row about Crookshanks and Scabbers. He was the only one who could provoke such intense and sometimes opposite feelings in her. And, above all, she knew, as she had discovered the year before during the time they had been angry at each other, that she could not be happy if Ron was not in her life._

_And suddenly, as she was approaching the Portrait of the Fat Lady with those thoughts in her mind, everything had made sense in her head: the incredulity in Ron's face after seeing her, the sudden despise of Viktor, and the fact that he had not paid any attention to Padma Patil during the night. Certainly, she had found that detail strange when she had gone to sit with them; after all, wasn't she what Ron wanted? Going with the prettiest girl he could get? And positively, Padma Patil was pretty. Why wasn't he paying attention to her, like that drooling, dim idiot of Roger Davies was doing to Fleur Delacour? But then the row had started and everything else had been banished from her mind. Now, however, everything was perfectly clear._

_Ron was jealous. Jealous of Viktor Krum._

_The realisation had made her feel a bit weak in the knees. Because if Ron really was jealous, that meant that he fancied her. A smile had appeared on her lips at the thought, only to be replaced, after a second, by a scowl. Yes, Ron was jealous ... he wanted her to be with him. But he had realised that only when he had seen her dressed like this, with her hair shiny and make up on, and that was not what she wanted. Deep inside her, she knew that her looks were not the only reason, because Padma was as pretty as her, if not more, and Ron hadn't paid any attention to her at all, but that was not enough for Hermione._

_However, the bottom line was that he, Ron, quite possibly liked her, and if he really, really did ... then she was willing to wait for him._

_And with that thought she had stepped in the Common Room, and suddenly Ron was yelling at her again, and she at him. And finally she had realised that Ron didn't really know he was jealous, so she had told him to ask her before anyone else next time, and had gone to bed, sighing. Then she had took off her beautiful dress robes and had lied down in bed curled underneath the blankets, cursing him, but, at the same time, wishing for him to mature, to understand, to realise what could happen between them, and hoping that it was worth all this. And something, inside her, had told her that it would be ..._

_And now, after so much time, after so much wait ... she was feeling that the moment had finally come. It had not been easy, of course, having those unrequited feelings, searching for clues that indicated that Ron was, at last, understanding what was happening between them, but she was a patient girl, wasn't she? And so she had waited._

_And the first clue, after a long time, had been the Christmas present he had bought her last year: a perfume. Not a book or some boxes of sweets, but a perfume: a gift for a girl. After opening it, she had felt a bit embarrassed, because she had got him a homework planner, like Harry's. That had been an awful mistake, because she needed for Ron to see that, to her, he was not like Harry. Harry was her best friend, like a brother. Ron was ... something more._

_After that, things had not progressed much far. Or, at least, there hadn't been sudden changes. Nevertheless, somehow, they had got closer. Slowly, but definitely closer. They even shared a 'moment' when she had woken up, in the hospital wing, after the skirmish at the Ministry. So in the end, after summer, after seeing how Ron had got jealous about her comments about Harry's attractiveness to girls, after seeing how Lavender Brown had tried to get Ron's attention without success, she had taken things into her own hands, and had asked him to Slughorn's Christmas Party._

_And tonight was the night, the moment she had been awaiting for the last few weeks. Exhaling a heavy breath, she exited the bathroom and crossed the room towards her bed to put on her shoes. Parvati, who was reading a book, smiled at her._

"_You look great, Hermione," she complimented. Hermione grinned gratefully at her roommate, and saw Lavender scowling. Hermione didn't mind. Lavender fancied Ron, and Ron was going to the party with her, so it was logical that she was angry. Not that she really cared. Ron certainly could do much better than Lavender, who, in her opinion, was shallow and not very clever, to say the least._

_Hermione got out of her room and climbed down the stairs leading to the Common Room to find Ron sitting on one of the armchairs, chatting with Dean and Seamus. He was wearing the new dark blue dress robes Fred and George had bought him, and, to her eyes, he looked incredibly handsome in them._

"_I'm ready," she said a bit uncertainly, stopping close to his armchair and smiling nervously at him. He turned his head, startled, and stared at her for almost half a minute, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Hermione's nervousness grew and her smile faltered._

"_You look — amazing, Hermione," he said finally, and smiled at her._

_Hermione's grin widened again and the nervousness faded almost completely. "You look great, too."_

_He returned the smile, looking a bit relieved, and, after saying goodbye to the others, they exited the Common Room._

"_And where is Harry?" asked Hermione._

"_He went to meet Luna. He said they'll see us later in Slughorn's office."_

"_Okay."_

_They reached the office and went inside. Hermione noticed that it had been magically enlarged, and a lot of Christmas decorations had been put around it. There were tables full of food and drinks, and a lot of people had already arrived and were chatting in groups all around the place. Hermione turned towards Ron and saw him staring around at everything. He looked a bit nervous._

"_Are you okay?" Hermione asked him, a bit concerned._

"_Yeah," Ron said. "It's — I didn't expect anything like this. Who are all these people?"_

"_Some old students of Slughorn, I assu—" Hermione proceeded to answer, but was interrupted by the voice of the party host._

"_Ms Granger! Welcome, welcome! Oh, I see you've brought Mr Weeby with you. Wonderful!" Slughorn greeted them, patting Hermione on her right shoulder. Hermione saw Ron scowling at Slughorn, but the professor didn't seem to notice. "I have to introduce you to Barnabus Goodburn, he is a high-ranked official in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. You said you were interested in that area, didn't you?" he asked, dragging Hermione along with him and ignoring Ron completely._

"_Eh, yes, I —" She didn't know what to do. Ron's scowl had intensified, but now he also looked disappointed and sad._

"_You go. I'll bring us a pair of butterbeers, okay?" he told her, walking away._

"_Charming," beamed Slughorn, dragging her towards a medium tall bald man with greyish beard. "Hey, Barnabus! I want you to meet Ms Granger here. Quite possibly one of the most talented witches I've ever seen!"_

_Hermione smiled and talked a bit to Mr Goodburn. After a few minutes, Slughorn insisted on introducing her to another Ministry official, this time from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and, afterwards, to the president of the Nimbus Broomsticks and Quidditch Supplies Company. Hermione tried to be kind and polite, but she was starting to get tired and irritated. Ron had not come back and she didn't know where he was._

_Finally, Slughorn saw Harry and Luna and, smiling broadly, let her go and went to greet his favourite student. Hermione sighed in relief, smiled and waved at Harry and Luna and then began to search for Ron amongst the crowd._

_At last, he spotted him in a corner, alone, leaning against the wall, with an almost empty bottle of butterbeer in his hands. He didn't look happy._

"_You're here!" she exclaimed as she reached the corner in which he was. "I thought you were going to bring me a butterbeer."_

_Ron passed her a bottle and took a new sip from his, without saying a word._

"_What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning. "Why didn't you come back to me?"_

"_Well, I didn't want to be in your way," Ron muttered, looking at her seriously._

_Hermione didn't understand anything._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Slughorn wanted to introduce _you_ to all those important people, didn't he? They want to meet you, and I suppose they would love to meet Harry too. Not me. After all, Slughorn doesn't even remember my name, and I've been in his classes for four months now." He stopped talking and then looked at the floor. "Perhaps you should have come with someone else," he added sadly. "You could have asked Harry, or McLaggen. Then Slughorn could introduce you together and —"_

"_Stop," she ordered, her voice adopting a dangerous tone. Now she was getting angry. Ron raised his eyes and stared at her._

"_What?"_

"_You — You — How can you be so daft?" she asked, almost livid._

_Ron's disappointed expression turned into one of annoyance._

"_I don't know," he said sarcastically. "Maybe that's why —"_

"_Shut up!" she ordered, trying — with difficulty — not to raise her voice. "Do you — do you _really_ think that I care about what Slughorn or the other people here think about you? Is that what you think, Ron?" she demanded angrily._

_Ron's mouth twitched, but he didn't say anything._

"_Do you think I wanted to come here with Harry?"_

"_Well, you said he had never been more fanciable, and with what he had endured last year and all that —" he began to explain._

_And then Hermione finally figured out what the problem was. Insecurity. The feeling of inadequacy. She understood it perfectly, because she had had to cope with it herself. Sometimes, she still had to. And she knew that, if she and Ron were going to be a couple someday, this was an issue she had to solve once and for all._

"_Come with me," she said to him, taking another two butterbeers. Ron looked a bit bewildered, but followed her anyway._

_Hermione moved through the crowded room to where Harry and Luna stood. Luna was talking to Professor Trelawney._

"_Hi, Harry, Luna," saluted Hermione._

"_Hi, Hermione, Ron," Harry said, smiling at them with relief. Hermione saw Harry's gaze travelling between her and Ron, and his smile faded. "Is everything okay, Ron? You seem a bit off."_

"_Yeah, wonderful," responded Ron a bit coldly._

_Harry furrowed his brow in confusion and looked at Hermione questioningly. "What —?"_

"_We'll talk later, okay? See you," Hermione told him before Harry could say anything more. She grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him to a secluded and quiet place in one of the corners of the room, leaving an astonished Harry behind them._

"_What are we doing here?" Ron asked, more confused than ever by Hermione's actions._

"_Let's sum up this," she said, ignoring Ron's question. "You think I fancy Harry?" she asked, crossing her arms defiantly._

"_Er, no," Ron muttered, suddenly shy. "I mean —"_

"_Exactly! I don't fancy Harry! If I wanted to come with Harry, I would have asked Harry. But I didn't, did I? I asked _you_," she said, poking him hard in the chest with her index finger._

"_Yeah, because I was the only one who wasn't invited and — ugh, Hermione!" he yelled in pain, because she had punched him in the ribs. "What was that for?"_

"_Because you were going to say something more stupid than the things you usually say!"_

_Ron was beginning to get angry. "So, now I'm daft and stupid?"_

"_YES! Sometimes, you are!" she exclaimed fiercely. "Tell me, Ron: were you going to say that I invited you because I felt pity for you? Was that what you were to say?"_

_Ron's ears reddened, but his gaze was defiant. "Yes."_

"_Listen to me, Ron Weasley: never, ever in my whole life have I felt pity for you! Do you understand me? I asked you to come because I WANTED to come with you! Because I thought we could have fun, and enjoy the party! But, you know, I'm beginning to think that I was wrong, because I'm not having any fun at all." Ron didn't say anything for a moment and Hermione continued. "I don't care about what Slughorn, or any other person in the world, thinks about you, Ron! The only thing that matters is what _I_ think about you. And yes, I said Harry was fanciable! And he is, just like you are!"_

_Ron's mouth opened in surprise at her last words. "You think I'm fanciable?"_

"_Yes, you stupid prat! You're tall, and brave; you're noble, and kind, and a very good friend! I find those qualities fanciable!"_

"_You never said anything like that to me before, Hermione," Ron said, sad but also a bit pleased. His ears were still as red as his hair. "You know, you got all excited when you knew Harry had spoken to Slughorn about you. And when I told you that I also thought you were the best in our year, you shushed me. How was I supposed to know —?"_

_Hermione's expression softened, and she exhaled a sigh. "I know. Perhaps that is my fault. I didn't know you were still so insecure, Ron. I thought ... I thought you knew."_

"_Well, you said I'm daft, didn't you?" he said with a sad smile._

"_Ron, I don't care about the fact that Slughorn didn't invite you to join the Slug Club. It's a really stupid thing, you know ... He doesn't value the things that matter the most. I mean, McLaggen and Zabini are members, aren't they? And what have they done? But you, you beat Professor McGonagall's Chess game, Ron. When you were twelve, you sacrificed yourself so Harry and I could go on to protect the Philosopher's Stone. And next year, you went to the Chamber of Secrets, and faced Acromantulas ... And I don't remember it well," she continued, with an ironic tone, "but weren't you the one that stood up to Sirius Black, a supposed mass murderer, telling him he would have to kill you and me to get Harry? Go, Ron, and ask Harry if he would have preferred to have Zabini or McLaggen, or any other person at his side in those occasions! And last year you went to the Department of Mysteries, and you fought Death Eaters. Don't you understand, Ron? You're as brave as Harry is! You have always been a bit jealous of him, I always knew, and I understood it, but for Heaven's sake, it's time for you to get over that! Don't you realise, Ron, that sometimes is Harry who is jealous of you?"_

"_Of me?" asked Ron in disbelief._

"_Yes, of you!" she affirmed. "He has fame, and money, and is the 'Chosen One'. And what? You have a loving family, and no one points at you everywhere you go. Harry would love that! But you already know it, don't you? Because you were with him when he looked at that mirror. The thing Harry has always wanted the most is the one you have always had." Ron smiled at her almost imperceptibly. "And when we came to Hogwarts, it was me who was jealous of you both, especially you, because you weren't great at classes, but you had your brothers here, and both of you had a friend, while I had none of that. I felt so alone and inadequate here, Ron ..." she confessed, and she felt her eyes water a little._

"_Inadequate? You?" asked Ron, dumbfounded by her confession. "You must be mental. You're the best —"_

"_Yes, inadequate!" she cut in. "That's why I pushed myself so hard, to be the best, to demonstrate to everyone that I belonged in here. But, in the end, I had no more friends than in my old school. That evening, on Halloween, when I was in the bathroom, crying because of the things you had said to me, I was thinking about writing to my parents and leaving Hogwarts," she confessed. Ron opened his mouth in great astonishment. "But then the troll appeared and you two came for me. And Harry threw himself at that monster, and you performed correctly the Hover Charm, the charm I had explained to you, and saved me, and we became friends." She stared intensely at him through her wet eyes. "And that night is still one of my best memories, the one I used the first time I invoked a Patronus."_

"_Hermione, I'm so sorry for that, for the horrible things I said to you. I — I never knew," said Ron apologetically. Slowly, he raised one of his hands and wiped a lonely tear from her face._

"_I am not sorry," replied Hermione with a sob, closing her eyes at the gentle contact of his thumb. "We became friends that day and even with everything we've faced, I'd never change what happened. You're one of the most important people in my life, Ron, along with Harry and my parents. You're not less than Harry and me. You gave us both a family in the Wizarding World. Harry needs you so badly. He was miserable when you were not talking during fourth year. And I was miserable, too, when we were not on speaking terms that time after Scabbers disappeared in our third year."_

_Ron was speechless, gaping at her like a fish, his ears bright red. "I — I don't know what to say Hermione. I — I just — sometimes I just think I'm not worthy of you —"_

"_Stop it!" she bellowed, shaking him by his shoulders. "You don't have to decide who's worthy of me! That's my choice, do you understand? Didn't I tell you already how much Harry and I need you? How many great things you have done? Do you remember how many great things the three of us have done, together?"_

"_Yes, you did tell me. And I do remember," he nodded. "I see your point."_

"_Then tell me, Ron. Why, why is so important for you to get noticed by other people?"_

"_It isn't," Ron said in a low voice. "I mean, I like it when I got the attention, that's true, because you know, my house is full of people, and you have to do something very unusual to get noticed above the others. But in the end the only person I wanted to hear those things from was you, Hermione. You have been the only one I've wanted to impress for a long time. I convinced myself that if everyone else was impressed by me, you'd be as well and you'd notice me more. I — I simply needed you to believe in me."_

"_And I do!" she affirmed wholeheartedly, "I've always believed in you, Ron. You were the one that didn't believe in yourself. I know I've never told you all of this, because — because — Well, I didn't want other people to know that — that —" she stopped, shaking her head for a moment and dropping her gaze before locking her eyes with his again. "But you don't have to do anything to be worthy of me, you already are. I don't need other people to realise and pinpoint to me how great you are, because I've realised that a long time ago," she explained passionately. Then she paused for a moment and added, "the only thing that you had to do to be with me was to notice me."_

"_I —" Ron began to say, but he got interrupted by Filch, who entered in the room dragging an angry Draco Malfoy with him. Both Ron and Hermione watched the words' exchange between Draco, Slughorn and Filch until Snape left the party with a displeased Malfoy. Hermione turned her face again towards Ron. "You were saying?"_

"_I was going to say that I did notice you, Hermione. I know that sometimes I'm thick, and daft, like you said. But I notice you. In the Yule Ball you were ..." He shook his head, his voice tailing away._

_Hermione sighed. "Yes, you are daft and thick, but at times you're also brilliant. And you're loyal, and you can always make me laugh, and loosen up a bit. I like you for the way you are, Ron, with your faults and virtues. They make you, _you_. You know, that time when we went to Hogsmeade alone? That's another of my best memories," she confessed, blushing slightly. _

_Ron's ears turned red like Hermione's cheeks and he smiled at her as she continued, "And the Yule Ball ... You know that I wanted you to ask me, don't you?"_

"_Well, I think that I realised it at some point."_

"_You hurt me, Ron, when you told me you wanted to go with the prettiest girl available."_

"_And you went with Krum." It wasn't an accusation._

"_I did. And I don't regret it. I enjoyed myself, and he was very kind and gentle. He didn't care about how I looked like. He liked the fact that him being an International Quidditch player didn't matter to me at all. He liked me for _me_."_

"_You looked beautiful that night," he blurted. "Not that other days you aren't!" he added, trying to explain himself. "I mean —"_

_Hermione smiled. "I didn't want you to notice me for my looks."_

"_I know. And I don't. Really, Hermione. I mean, seeing you there, with your dress robes, your sleek hair and all that was like a slap in my face. But I'll tell you a secret," he bent towards her and whispered, "I like you a lot better carrying a lot of books, and with your hair the way it usually is. It's ... more like you. Simply I wasn't aware of that fact at that time."_

_Hermione blushed even more, and had to look away from his eyes. Something inside her was soaring with delight._

"_Not that I mind seeing you like this," added Ron. "You look really stunning. And I am glad you asked me to come."_

"_I'm glad you came, Ron," she replied, raising her gaze and staring intensely at his dazzling blue eyes. "And once and for all, to settle this: I don't want you to be Harry, nor Krum, nor anyone else. I like you. You!"_

"_I like you too, Hermione. I've never told you as much as I should, but I would be lost without you. I wouldn't have even passed my OWLs. Bloody hell, probably Harry and I wouldn't even be alive! You've been so important to us, Hermione — to me. You have never been inadequate. Never. In fact, I don't think there has ever been anyone who deserved to be at Hogwarts more than you do."_

_Hermione beamed, and that thing that was soaring inside her began to roar with happiness._

"_So —" she began._

"_So —" he started._

_And then she could not hold herself any longer. It has been too long, so she threw herself at him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him with all her heart and soul. And a glorious instant later, he was embracing her tightly, pressing her against him, and kissing her back. It wasn't a kiss from someone with plenty of experience, like Viktor's; instead it was tentative and hesitant. But it was from Ron, her Ron; it was a kiss full of tenderness and care and passion, and that was all she needed in the world._

_After almost two minutes they separated their mouths for much needed air. Ron had a dazed expression of pure happiness etched upon his face, and Hermione knew that she probably had a similar one on hers._

"_Whoa!" said Ron, grinning broadly, his arms still around Hermione, as hers were around his neck. "For a first kiss, I daresay it was ... bloody brilliant."_

_Hermione blushed and looked down, towards his chest. "Ron, after everything we've said, I don't want more secrets or misunderstandings between us, so I have to tell you this." She forced herself to look directly at his eyes, feeling a bit nervous. "My first kiss was with Viktor."_

"_Oh," Ron said dejectedly, breaking their eye contact, his radiant grin suddenly gone. The pressure of his arms around her slackened a bit, and she could tell that he was trying to conceal his disappointment and anger. "Well — Was he —? I mean —" he stuttered before realising what he was asking. When he did, he shut his mouth and looked away, embarrassed, waiting for her to say something._

"_It was different," she answered sincerely. "I'm not going to tell you that I didn't enjoy it when he kissed me..." Ron released her completely, and she felt suddenly cold. "He is older, you know, and more experienced, so it was good. But that doesn't matter, Ron, because when he was kissing me, I knew it for sure."_

"_You knew what?" he asked sharply, looking at her again._

"_That no matter how well he kissed, or how kind or gentle he was, he wasn't you. The kiss with Viktor was fine, Ron, yes. But the kiss we just shared means everything to me."_

_Ron didn't say anything for an entire minute, and then, when Hermione was almost dying with anxiety, he hugged her again, tightly, and whispered directly to her ear, "It means everything to me too."_

_And again, she felt that same feeling. The feeling of giddiness, of happiness, a feeling that told her that she was living the happiest moment of her life, and then Ron was snogging her again, with all his passion, with all his heart, and one of his hands was on the small of her back, and the other was caressing her hair, and every cell of her body was yelling with delight, because after all the wait, all the misunderstandings, all the bickering and rowing, Ron was hers, and she was his._

_At last. _

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><p>Aren't they perfect for each other? I hope you liked it. I have an extended version of this chapter, that is part of my 'background material'. I put here the short version because I think that the end of the chapter is perfect for this story, but, if I finally publish that 'background material', I'll give you the whole chapter.<p>

Next chapter will be out this Friday!_  
><em>


	11. In The Morning

**In the Morning**

Hermione woke up suddenly and found herself comfortably curled up underneath the blankets of her bed. Yawning, she pushed the blankets off her and sat up, turning her head to glance out of the window. It was still dark outside, so it must be early. The room, she noticed, was still pleasantly warm. Ron's charm hasn't vanished.

Ron.

His name brought instantly the memories of the dream she had had, the dream about Slughorn's Christmas party. Closing her eyes, she lay down on the bed again and sighed sadly. It seemed incredible to her that it had been little more than a year since that wonderful night. She felt the tears well in her eyes at the thought of how amazing she had felt, how full of hope, how delighted ... and how her weakness and stupidity had shattered her dream, had erased her hopes and desires.

She thought again about Ron, about that night, about the dance they had shared, about the sometimes playful, sometimes passionate, kisses they had exchanged, during the party and while they were going back to Gryffindor Tower. And then she remembered the things she had said to him, that she didn't want him to be Harry, that she didn't fancy Harry ... And just a few months later, after all her words, all her reassuring, she had done the very thing Ron had feared, the very thing she had said she would never do, and had cheated on him with his best friend ...

_Harry was right_, she thought sadly. _We — I — don't deserve forgiveness, not after what I did._

She felt again the wet traces of tears on her cheeks, and while wiping them away, she pondered if a person could run out of tears by crying too much, because if it was possible, she surely was very close to achieving it. She realised that she was completely awake and that, almost surely, she would be unable to sleep again, and tried to decide whether she should get dressed or stay in bed a bit longer. She looked at her alarm clock and saw that it was almost six o'clock: too early.

She turned her gaze to the window again, and then she saw it: a sudden flash of red light. Frightened, she got to her feet instantly and ran towards the window. She looked towards her right, where the iron gates were situated, and saw streaks and bursts of light coming from there. Someone was trying to get in through the wards protecting the school. However, she could not see the gates properly from this window because the castle walls blocked the view, so she put on her dressing gown, took her wand and, silently, opened the door and peeked at the corridor outside. She didn't see or hear anyone, so she stepped out of the room and headed towards the window at the end of the corridor, from where she could see the gates.

She had moved just a few feet when she stopped dead in her tracks. A tall, dark figure was already looking through the window. She felt a chill running down her spine at the sight, and realised the figure was Ron. More relaxed, she resumed walking, feeling calmer. If Ron was watching through a window, apparently untroubled, then surely they were safe.

"You woke up early," Ron said a second before she reached him.

"I saw a red flash, and went to see what was happening, but I couldn't appreciate it from my window, so I came here," she explained, and then followed Ron's gaze. Outside was pitch black, but she could distinguish something moving outside the gates, and every few seconds, a new flash of light cut the darkness before vanishing, allowing her to see the black robed figures moving there.

"Death Eaters," Ron told her before she had time to ask, "trying to break my protections. They're wasting their time."

"Do you know how many of them are there?"

"Ten," said Ron. "They arrived two hours ago."

"And Voldemort? He's not there, is he?" she asked, her voice revealing more fear than she wanted to show.

"No, he sent a group of his slaves. He doesn't know Harry's here, of course. I suppose he just things the students and professors had rebelled against Snape and the Carrows. But I'm sure that he himself will come in the morning, when he discovers that those idiots aren't capable of entering the castle." A dark smile appeared on his face. "But don't worry; he will have more pressing worries by then."

Hermione could see, even in the dimness of the corridor, Ron's eyes darkening. He drew his wand and began caressing it softly, rolling it between his fingers.

"I could kill them all from here," he commented suddenly, with a soft but dangerous tone. "I could blast them all, and they would never know what hit them."

Upon hearing this words, Hermione shuddered, scared all of a sudden.

"You — you c — can't!" she stuttered, horrified.

"Oh, yes, certainly I can, Hermione," he retorted. "A single flick of my wand ..." he moved the wand to emphasize his words, "and they all would be dead for good. It would be so easy ..."

"No, Ron! You're not a killer!" she begged.

Ron looked at her, and she retreated a bit, scared by him, by this Ron who was not the Ron she had known for six years, this Ron who was not the one she had kissed and loved, but a strange and powerful wizard capable, she realised, of killing.

"You don't know what I am or am not," he replied. "They're murderers, torturers, cruel people. The world would be a better place without them."

"But you can't!" almost shrieked Hermione, and she dared to grasp his left arm with her trembling hands. "You said it yourself! You said you had come back to do the right thing! And killing people is not right! Not even when they're Death Eaters. You can beat them, can't you? You can capture them without killing, so if you do, if you kill ... then it is murder."

"I don't care."

"But I do!" she replied, vehemently. "I do, Ron! I don't want you to be a killer. A year ago, you wouldn't have contemplated, even for a second, killing ten people in a row."

"I've told you I'm not that Ron anymore."

"I know you aren't! And, as much as you deny it, I am the one to blame for that! But I won't let you to become a heartless killer, Ron. You're not like that. Even if you don't care about me, or Harry, or Ginny, or the rest of your family, you're still here! You're doing what is right! That's why we came here yesterday, wasn't it? To free Hogwarts, because it was the right thing to do. And you know that killing all those people is not right," she argued.

Ron didn't answer for a moment, but stared again at the gates. After a couple of minutes, however, he turned towards her again and fixed his eyes on hers. "You're right. Killing them this way is murder, and I am not a murderer."

Hermione exhaled a sigh of relief and leant against the corridor's wall, fearing that her trembling legs might not be able to support the weight of her body.

"I was not going to do it, I think," he continued, looking at his wand. "I was merely contemplating the possibility. Nevertheless, I'm glad you were here, Hermione. I think that is the reason I went for you and Harry. You can restrain me if I get ... carried away."

"Restrain you?"

"Your conscience and your ethics make me keep the focus on what it's important and what it is right. So, in some way, I think that I do need you."

Hermione didn't know what to say. It was the first time, since Ron had returned, that he had let some vulnerability or need out. Not being able to mouth an appropriate answer, she decided to go back to staring at the grounds.

"Do any of the teachers know that we have Death Eaters at the gates?" she asked, a little after.

"Everybody is sleeping, except you and me," said Ron.

Hermione retreated a bit from the window, and stared at Ron, who was still watching the unsuccessful attempts of the Death Eaters to break down his magical protection, and a sudden image of him, inching towards her, popped into her mind, and she shivered, remembering the wonderful feeling of his lips on hers, of his arms around her body, of his hands tangled in her hair ...

_Gone,_ she thought, trying to shove the image away. _That's all gone. It won't happen again. Never. _And then, suddenly, that enticing mental image was replaced by another, more frightening one.

_I could kill them all from here._

She flinched, the warm feeling of the first memory instantly overcome by the coldness of the second one.

Ron looked at her for a moment, his deep blue eyes making her feel as if all her secrets were in plain sight, and then resumed his watching through the window.

"It's early, Hermione. You should go back to sleep. There's nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. I'm only watching them."

"okay, I'll see you later, then."

Ron didn't say anything more and Hermione went to her room, lay down on her bed facing the window, with her hands under her head, and patiently waited for the morning to arrive.

o o o

The alarm sound startled her and she almost jumped on the bed to a sitting position. A bit confused, she looked at the clock and saw it was half past seven. It seemed that, in the end, she had fallen asleep. Now she could see the early light of day filtering through the glass. Slowly, she got out of the bed and moved to the window. She wanted to know if the Death Eaters were still trying to break down Ron's defences, or if they had brought reinforcements after realising they weren't going to be able to succeed, but she couldn't see much. Nevertheless, it seemed that no one was casting any curse or spell. In fact, everything seemed calm. Had the Death Eaters retreated in defeat?

She hurried to the bathroom and took a quick but pleasant shower. Then she dressed up, packed everything in her bag and exited the room. It was already ten minutes to eight and the corridor was deserted, so she went to the window and looked again at the gates. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see better, and she was sure there was at least a person at the entrance.

_They left someone to watch_, she thought. _But where are the others?_

Her eyes roamed over the school grounds, but everything seemed calm and deserted. Where was Ron? It was unlikely that he had gone to attack the Death Eaters, because had he done it, there would be no one at the gates ...

The sound of a door opening distracted her from her thoughts. She turned round and saw Harry leaving his room. He spotted her and moved towards her.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Harry. Slept well?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered, and shrugged. "It was strange, though, having an entire and very comfortable bed just to myself."

"Yes, I know what you mean."

"Where's Ron?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered. "He didn't sleep. Can you believe it? Ron, not sleeping ..." she shook her head.

"Yeah ... That and almost no eating, which is even stranger, if you ask me."

"Yes, it is."

They fell silent, both watching the grounds through the glass.

"There are Death Eaters watching the school," Hermione piped up.

"What?" Harry asked, looking at her. "Where? When —?"

"There's one at the gates right now," she explained. "I woke up before dawn and saw them. They were trying to break Ron's protective enchantments, but they couldn't do it."

"And Voldemort —?"

"Ron said he wasn't here."

"And he didn't do anything to them?" asked Harry disbelievingly.

Hermione didn't answer immediately. The words '_I could kill them all from here_' crossed her mind and she felt chills run down her body. "No. He said they wouldn't be able to enter the castle and stood here, watching them."

"Why? He could have captured them, couldn't he?"

"I don't know."

Harry got closer to the glass, trying to get a better sight of the gates, when the sound of a voice startled them, making Harry smack his head against the window.

"You're already up. Perfect."

It was Ron. He was standing twenty feet behind them, watching them with his penetrating gaze.

"You have to stop doing that," said Hermione, a hand clutching her chest and breathing heavily, "or you'll end up giving us a heart attack."

"How do you move so silently, by the way?" wanted to know Harry, rubbing the spot in his forehead where he had hit the glass.

"Practice," responded Ron plainly. "Let's go have breakfast. I want to be at the Ministry at nine o'clock."

"Where are the Death Eaters?" asked Hermione once they began to walk towards the Great Hall.

"They got tired, so they left a watch and now are surrounding the grounds, trying to find a way in."

"Why didn't you tell me there were Death Eaters?" demanded Harry.

"There was nothing to do. They can't get in," explained Ron, and turned round to go to the Great Hall.

When they got inside, Hermione noticed only the teachers and some students were there. Ginny and Neville were among them, the two sitting alone at Gryffindor table. Ron sat directly in front of them.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Ron, Harry, Hermione," greeted Neville, with a small and uncertain smile. Ginny merely looked at his brother.

Harry and Hermione began to help themselves to breakfast, but Ron simply sat there.

"I've — I've heard that there are Death Eaters outside the school," commented Neville. "McGonagall and Flitwick were discussing it when we came down."

"Yes, there are," confirmed Ron, "but you don't have to worry. They cannot get into the grounds. And soon, they'll have more pressing worries."

Neville stared at him in awe. "Are you sure, Ron?" he asked. "About going to the Ministry?"

"Yes, I am."

Neville didn't say anything more.

"I'm going with you," piped up Ginny, defiantly. "Dad works there, and I want to be there when —"

"You're not coming," replied Ron, interrupting her.

"Why not?" she asked, furious. "I cannot go, when I'm your sister, and _they _can, when they betrayed you?"

"This isn't about me or about what happened," Ron said. "You're not coming, and that's all I have to say. You're not of age."

"You're not my owner!" Ginny bellowed, outraged.

"No, I'm not, but you cannot come if I don't take you, and I'm not going to do so."

Ginny didn't reply, but her look was murderous. However, Ron seemed unaffected by it.

"Gin, I think that —" Harry started, looking at her apologetically.

"Don't 'Gin' me!" she yelled at him. "I'm not talking to you."

"I explained to you everything about — you know what," he continued, hesitantly. "I trust you. But this —"

"Oh, don't make me laugh," Ginny cut him in, her tone angry and hurtful. "You only told me because Ron let the cat out of the bag!"

Harry didn't know what to say.

"But he was the one who explained it to you," intervened Hermione, trying to help. "We are sorry, Ginny," she added, and, to her embarrassment, she felt tears in her eyes. "You don't know how sorry we are. For everything."

Ginny looked at her. "You should be, Hermione," she said, her tone a bit calmer and softer. "But that is not enough. The pain you two caused to my family cannot be easily forgiven or forgotten."

"I know," Hermione said, wiping away her tears. "But that was never our intention. You know that, to me, your family is like my own. I know we disappointed you all, but we paid, Ginny. During these last months, we paid for it."

Ginny looked at her intensely, as weighing her words, and finally spoke with a normal tone full of sadness:

"I don't know what to say to you. I never — no one, I think — expected something like that from you two."

"Neither did I," said Harry. "We didn't do it on purpose! But we'll try to fix it. We'll try, even if it's the last thing we do." Hermione agreed, nodding fervently.

"There's nothing to fix," Ron told them suddenly. "I'm getting bored with this subject. I am fine. I'm okay with everything, so why don't you forget it?" he asked Ginny. "What happened, happened." he stated and looked at Harry and Hermione. "You'd better finish, the Ministry awaits us. You can chatter about feelings and friendships and relationships all you want once we come back."

Harry and Hermione hurried up. Ron got up and went to the staff table. Hermione noticed that the Great Hall was much more crowded, almost every student was now there.

Ron turned round and his potent voice — magically boosted, Hermione suspected — sounded in the Great Hall, and all the talking died out.

"Yesterday," Ron began, "Hogwarts was freed. Today, the Ministry will be cleared up. Soon, this war will have finished, and all of you and your families will be able to go on with your lives." Ron made a pause. No one dared to make the slightest sound. "Meanwhile, I warn you against going near the gates. Last night a group of Death Eaters tried to break into the school. They couldn't, but they're keeping watch. No one is allowed to get near them. The teachers know this, and they'll make sure no one passes them _unnecessary _information," he said softly, his eyes roaming over the Slytherin table. "Have you understood me?" he asked, and, again, no one spoke. "Good. That's all."

Ron returned to where Harry and Hermione were sitting, and they stood up once he reached them.

"Ready?" he asked. They both nodded. "Let's go, then," he said, starting to move towards the doors.

"Good luck," Neville said, with a nervous smile.

"Yeah, good luck," added Ginny, without looking at them.

"Thanks," muttered Harry nervously, and they left the Great Hall under everyone's gaze.

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><p><em>And we start the second day! Next chapter, on Monday!<em>


	12. The Ministry

_I usually only reply to non-anonymous reviews through FF PM system, but I received two curious reviews in last chapter and I had to reply._

_**Drobbles**__: sorry, but no. If you read the story carefully you'll see that what you say makes no sense at all here. Besides, that would be simply plagiarism, because there is one story more or less based on what you say, it's from __**Billybob – csagun36**__ and it's called 'Second time around'. You'll have to guess again._

_**Dancechick11:**__ Thank you. Your suggestion sounds too much 'Disney' for me, but you made me laugh, it was a beautiful idea. But yes, I have everything written, so ..._

_Ah, many, many thanks to __**Kienificent**__ for her corrections!_

* * *

><p><strong>The Ministry<strong>

To Harry and Hermione's surprise, Ron didn't head for the oak doors and the grounds once they were in the Entrance Hall, but for the marble staircase.

"Where are we going to?" asked Harry, confused, as he began to climb up the stairs behind Ron. "Don't we need to get out of Hogwarts?"

"No, we don't," Ron replied. "I can Apparate out of here."

"Apparate _out of Hogwarts_?" said Hermione, between incredulity and bewilderment.

"Yes. It takes a bit more effort, but that's not a problem," he explained as he led them towards an empty classroom.

"And we'll Apparate inside the Ministry?" Harry wanted to know, getting inside the classroom after Hermione.

"Exactly."

"But the Ministry has put up wards to prevent anyone from —"

"That's not a problem for me."

Hermione didn't insist. If Ron said he could do it, then surely it was true. If he was able to stop the Killing Curse ...

"Well, pay attention to me," Ron said, facing she and Harry. "We'll Apparate directly into the Atrium. Have your wands ready. There shouldn't be any problem, but better safe than sorry. They'll send everything they've got against us. That's not a serious issue, I can handle it, but I have to warn you that it is likely that I'll be forced to unleash my power. It won't be nice. They don't mean anything to me and I don't care about them, but I don't want to make a massacre. If I get too carried away, you must restrain me. With words, never with wands," he warned them. "Do you understand?" he asked. Harry furrowed his brow, confused, but Hermione nodded fervently, remembering their early talk that morning.

"We'll be there for you, Ron," she assured.

"Yes, we will," Harry confirmed, nodding.

"Okay. Now, take out your wands and grab my shoulders. I'll have to break the protections here and there as we Apparate, so it'll be more uncomfortable than last time."

Hermione and Harry did as Ron had told them. Hermione clutched her wand hard, an uneasy feeling blooming insider her. She trusted Ron, she had accepted that this new Ron could do anything, but, nevertheless, she couldn't help it, she was afraid.

"Ready?" Ron asked, and Harry and Hermione nodded. "Let's go, then."

Ron closed his eyes and seemed to glow for a moment. Then, Hermione felt a constricting and suffocating sensation in her body and darkness surrounded her. The horrible feeling of being crushed grew for a moment, and then, with a loud and powerful 'CRACK', she felt that she was able to move again, and fresh, much needed air filled her lungs.

Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. They had Apparated near the visitors' entrance. In front of them, the Atrium was crowded with Ministry employees, nearly all of them now looking towards where they stood, having heard the loud noise caused by the breaking of the anti-Apparition charms. Hermione clutched her wand even tighter, and felt terribly exposed and, for a few seconds, even more terrified than when she and Harry had broken into the Ministry back in September.

For a moment, no one spoke, no sound was made. And then, at once, four Ministry guards moved towards them, raising their wands.

"POTTER!" one of them shouted. "It's Harry Potter!"

Hermione raised her wand too, ready to fight, but Ron, calm as ever, was already moving. He gave a step forwards and waved his wand. Its tip flashed red, and the four guards were blasted backwards, their wands flying off them, and crumpled to the floor, scathed, their noses bleeding and their robes partially burnt and smoking. The rest of the wizards and witches in the Atrium retreated at once, moving away from the four unconscious guards, surprised and scared, while Ron, confident, was moving towards them, his face revealing perfect concentration, absolute determination. Harry and Hermione followed him.

"It's time for a change," Ron said, loudly, to the astounded crowd. "This Ministry is corrupted, ruled by Death Eaters and other despicable people. That will not be permitted anymore. So decide now what do you want: this new regime or an improved version of the old one. And if you choose to support what is happening," he added, a trace of spite and venom in his voice, "then get ready to fight me."

No one moved, no one dared to say a simple word as Ron's eyes roamed over the entire Atrium.

"And, for starters, that _sculpture_ is awful, nasty, untruthful and unforgivable," he added, and aimed his wand at the monument of the wizard and the witch sitting over naked Muggles. A quick and short lightning burst from the wand's tip and impacted against the monument, which exploded in millions of pieces with a deafening noise.

Everyone in the Atrium covered their heads with their arms, screaming, some of them tripping and falling to the floor while trying to get away from the smoking place where the monument had been.

Then, amidst the confusion, two Aurors ran towards Ron, quickly throwing Stunning Spells at him. But Ron, without the slightest concern, blocked the spells and with another flick of his wand transformed them into two statues.

While he was doing this, Hermione noticed more wizards aiming at Ron from behind him, and with a surge of hatred, saw Dolores Umbridge ahead of them, her expression confused and furious.

"Ron!" she shouted, throwing a Stunning Spell towards the wizards aiming at him. Harry was doing the same, but there were six of them, and, while two crumpled to the floor, Ron's wand was already flying across the place, finally falling into the extended hand of a smirking Umbridge.

Ron turned to his enemies slowly, as the Ministry employees retreated farther from him, sensing that Ron, powerful as he might be, had now nothing to do, wandless as he was.

Hermione felt fear filling her. It seemed impossible, but Ron had failed. He was Disarmed now, in the heart of the Ministry of Magic! They had to do something. She aimed again, ready to attack and threw a new Stunning Spell. But the Auror she was targeting blocked it, and she and Harry were suddenly facing four wands directed at them. Umbridge smiled repulsively and used her own wand to revive the unconscious Aurors.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" she said in her unpleasant high-pitched voice. "Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, _again_, with Ronald Weasley no less this time!" She emitted a little laugh that made Hermione flinch with distaste. "Did you think you could break into the Ministry twice?" she asked Harry. "Nothing can save you this time, Potter!"

Hermione could sense Harry's anger flooding off him. She looked at Ron, and saw that he seemed absolutely untroubled, even when two Aurors had their wands pointed towards him. He was gazing at Umbridge, as if analyzing her.

"We thought you had done a bunk, Weasley," Umbridge said, almost laughing. "Too bad you decided to come back. Do you know what the punishment for attacking Ministry officials is?"

Ron didn't answer, but addressed the crowd watching the scene. "You see what is happening here. Are you going to stand there, without doing anything? Are you going to let this bitch impose her twisted laws and her Death Eater masters rule the Ministry? Are you letting her send Harry Potter to death?"

Some of the employees seemed a bit ashamed, but almost everyone avoided Ron's gaze and stared at the floor or at the walls. Hermione's hope faded. No one was brave enough to help them —

She heard someone shouting and the sound of people running. Someone was trying to reach them through the crowd.

"Son!" the person yelled, and Hermione saw Mr Weasley running towards Ron, Kingsley Shacklebolt right behind him. "You're alive! You're all right! But what —?"

"Well, well, well," sneered Umbridge, smiling devilishly. "A family gathering! How touching! Get away from him, Arthur. Your son is a criminal and he'll be put under arrest to be punished adequately."

Mr Weasley turned to Umbridge, his hand on his wand. "You bitch! I will not let anyone harm my —"

But Mr Weasley could not complete his sentence. One of the Aurors had shot a spell at him, binding and Silencing him. Kingsley tried to draw his wand, too, but the Aurors aimed at him warningly.

"You too, Shacklebolt? You're a traitor?" Umbridge asked, scowling. "You'll be put under arrest too, then!" she bellowed, laughing excitedly. She looked at Ron's wand. "I see you've got a new wand, Weasley. A nice one," she added, caressing it. "Let's see how it works," she said, and pointed it at Ron.

"NO!" yelled Harry, and gave a step forwards. "It's me the one you want! I am Undesirable Number One, aren't I? Take me, do with me what you want, but leave them alone!"

Ron looked at him. "What are you doing?" he asked, while Umbridge and another Auror, who, Hermione realised, was in fact a Death Eater called Jugson, started laughing.

"We have special orders regarding you," Umbridge said, delighted. "We can't punish you." Her evil smile widened and she looked at Ron again, aiming at him once more. "This one, on the other hand —"

"RON, NOO!" yelled Harry suddenly, and Hermione saw him sprint off without thinking, trying to get between Ron and Umbridge, trying to save him. But Jugson shot a spell at him, the streak of light hit him on the face and he felt backwards, landing hard on his back, with a nasty gash on his right cheek. Hermione pointed her wand at them, ready to fight, ready to die — if it was necessary — to protect her friends, but before she could do anything, two Aurors had shot spells at her, and she found herself on the floor, clutching her middle body in pain while her wand landed ten yards away from her. She heard Umbridge's horrible laugh, and that hurt even more than the curse she had received.

She looked at Ron, and saw him looking at them, his face expressionless, before turning his head to face a delighted Umbridge. Hermione was beyond fear, terrified, for she could not see a way out of this mess ...

"Where were we before Potter's _heroic_ intervention?" she said. "Ah, yes! We were about to teach Weasley proper respect. This will do, I reckon," she added, the pleasure evident in her repulsive face, and, aiming at Ron with his own wand, she shouted, "_Crucio!_"

Hermione closed her eyes. She didn't want to see. But the screams she was expecting never came. She opened her eyes and saw Ron, standing in the same place as a moment before, and Umbridge, looking alternatively at him and at the wand, utterly confused. "What the —? _Crucio!_" She repeated, and again, nothing happened. "What's wrong with this wand?"

Hermione saw Ron smile. That new smile that didn't show amusement, but deadly danger, and suddenly knew that nothing was lost yet.

"You stupid cow," Ron hissed in a cold tone. "Do you think I'd let you take my wand like this, so easily? Do you think you can beat me with a simple Disarming Spell? My wand cannot be taken! My wand cannot be won! Now I'll show you how it works ..."

Umbridge looked at Ron, confused, and then Hermione saw Ron's wand glow. Umbridge saw it, too, and her eyes widened in astonishment. And one second later, she let out a terrible scream of pain and dropped onto the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Her screams of pain filled the entire Atrium, and Hermione noticed that she was still clutching Ron's wand as if she wasn't unable to release it.

"NOOOOOOOO! STOP! STOP! MAKE IT STOP!" she begged between cries of pain. The Aurors seemed suddenly lost and confused. One of them tried to take Ron's wand off her hand, but the instant he touched it, he was thrown through the air, hitting a wall rather violently. Then, the wand flew towards Ron, who took it swiftly. It was yet glowing, and after touching it, Ron seemed to glow too, with magic and power, and the Aurors retreated instinctively. In the floor, Umbridge was still writhing and moaning a little, barely conscious.

Four of the Aurors attacked Ron at the same time, throwing four beams of red light towards him, but he blocked the spells lazily and advanced slowly towards them. "I gave you all a chance," he said, his tone dark and menacingly. "You took the wrong choice." He flicked his wand again, and the five Aurors that were still standing were suddenly surrounded by a bluish substance flowing around them. They looked around them, confused, for a moment, and then the strange essence attacked them, covering their bodies. There was an instant of intense blue light, and when it faded, Hermione could see that all the Aurors were locked in transparent, glittering blue spheres which rose slowly up in the air. Inside them, the Aurors seemed immobile, frozen, an expression of sheer terror etched upon their motionless faces.

"This is what happens to anyone supporting the new Ministry," said Ron, moving towards Umbridge, who was now regaining consciousness, and was looking at the enchanted spheres floating above her, utterly frightened.

"No, no!" she yelled, trying to get away from Ron. "Leave me alone! I —"

"It's time for punishment, Dolores," Ron said, softly. "You like punishment, don't you? When someone breaks the law? You said it yourself." Umbridge was shaking her head, trembling. "Yes, you do. And now, _I_ make the laws. Now, _I _decide punishment."

Hermione felt that she needed to do something, to stop Ron before he did something terrible, but a part of her didn't want to. A part of her wanted Umbridge to suffer for her cruelty.

Ron pointed his wand at her, and Umbridge closed her eyes, her body shaking like mad, terror painted in her toadlike face.

"Ron —" said then Hermione, trying to get up, still in pain. "Ron, don't."

Ron acted as he hadn't heard anything. He got closer to the terrified woman and said, "Azkaban will be a pleasant place for scum like you. And you'll have plenty of your Death Eater mates there to accompany you." He flicked his wand and Umbridge was soon locked in another of the floating bluish spheres. Then, he faced the crowd of Ministry employees, who retreated at once. "You cowards ..." he hissed. "You let this happen. You don't deserve the magic you've got. I should do the same to you all."

"Ron. Son."

Hermione looked at Mr Weasley, who was staring at Ron in amazement. Kingsley had released him and he, too, was gazing at Ron in awe.

"You're back," Mr Weasley said, without blinking, as if Ron could disappear if he lost sight of him for a moment, and then ran towards him and embraced him tightly. "You're back and you're safe!" he sobbed against his son's chest. Ron didn't return the hug, though, but merely stood there, looking emotionless at the top of his father's balding head.

"I'm back," he said plainly.

"Where have you been, Ron? And what are you doing here? And how —?"

"Stop," Ron said, pushing Mr Weasley softly off him. "No more questions. There are a bunch of Death Eaters here. I have to deal with them."

"You alone?" asked Kingsley, and then Hermione saw him, his face full of fear, looking at Harry, who was now standing up, brushing the blood on his cheek. "And you! What're you doing here, Harry! If they capture you —"

"We've come with Ron," Harry explained, a look of determination etched upon his face. "And, as you see, he can manage perfectly."

Hermione, walking with some difficulty, retrieved his wand, and noticed that Mr Weasley was looking at them, too, frowning and bewildered. "You three should not be here," he said simply, without greeting Hermione or Harry. Hermione didn't expect him to.

"Why is that no more Death Eaters have come yet?" Harry commented, approaching the three men. "They must know we're here."

"There was a calling early in the morning," Kingsley explained. "Something happened at Hogwarts. Two Aurors didn't report themselves last night and —"

"We know," said Harry. "We were at Hogwarts. The Carrows and Snape are in custody, and Ron put up some powerful wards so no one can get in."

Mr Weasley looked at Ron again, his expression a mixture between awe and confusion. "How? Ron, since when can you —?"

"THERE!" a voice sounded, startling them all. About thirty Death Eaters and Aurors were running towards them from the other side of the Atrium, and, just a moment later, a dozen spells were soaring against them. Kingsley, Mr Weasley, Hermione and Harry got ready to fight back, but they didn't have the chance, because Ron, facing them quickly, waved his wand and a translucent, yellowish magical barrier appeared before him, shielding him and those behind it. The spells hit the protective barrier and, one after other, vanished with a slight reverberation. Upon seeing this, the attackers hesitated for a moment, surprised and confused, but then attacked with renewed force, throwing powerful curses against Ron, many of them the _Avada Kedavra_. But nothing seemed strong enough to overcome Ron's magic. Bewildered, astounded and a bit scared, the Ministry forces stopped to plan any different.

And then Ron made the protective barrier vanish and advanced towards the attacking wizards, again glowing, blocking every curse or jinx thrown at him. His wand began to emit pulses of light as he waved, flicked and slashed it, and soon the entire Atrium was filled with smoke, and Hermione could only see flashes of light and hear yells and screams and the sounds of things being broken or smashed and that of bodies falling onto the floor.

After just two minutes, every sound was extinguished, and, when the smoke cleared, Hermione saw Ron, tall and strong and determined, standing still, whole and unscathed, among dozens of bodies of unconscious, jinxed and wounded Death Eaters and Ministry officials. Only one of them was still conscious, kneeling before Ron, who was pointing at him with his wand. The man seemed hexed and unable to move. Hermione recognised him immediately, as she has seen his photograph in the _Prophet_ last summer: he was Pius Thicknesse, Minister for Magic.

As she watched the results of the battle — if this could be called a battle, for the defeated army had not had a chance — Hermione realised, for the very first time, the true extent of the incredible power now Ron had.

_Thirty wizards, _she thought, surprised and afraid. _He beat thirty wizards in two minutes. In two minutes! And he is totally unharmed._

She looked at Harry, who seemed as impressed as she was. Before them, Mr Weasley and Kingsley were also speechless, unable to understand what had just happened.

Then, Ron moved back towards them, Thicknesse being dragged alongside him by an invisible force. When they reached the place Kingsley and Mr Weasley were, Ron raised his wand and forced the Minister to get to his feet.

"An Imperiused wizard is not a good choice for Minister, don't you think?" Ron asked Thicknesse.

"Leave me alone!" Thicknesse shouted between gritted teeth.

Ron moved his wand slowly until its tip touched Thicknesse's temple. When it did, the Minister shook his head violently and looked at Ron and around him, blinking rapidly, looking confused, as though he had just woken up in an unexpected place.

"What — what has happened? Why am I —?"

"He's free of the _Imperius_ Curse now," Ron told Kingsley, lowering his wand. Thickness fell to the floor, released from the spell holding him, and tried to get to her feet again. Then, raising his voice so everyone could hear him, Ron added: "Take care of the Death Eaters. Take their wands and put them into custody. Kingsley Shacklebolt will be Minister for Magic while we sort out this mess. You'll obey him, do you understand?" No one dared to reply. Satisfied, Ron turned to his father. "Dad, you can help him."

Kingsley and Mr Weasley were too shocked to do more than nodding. Then, as no one was moving, Ron shouted to the Ministry employees: "One last thing: if anyone in this building thinks for a moment about helping Lord Voldemort to regain power, let me tell you that I'll deal with him or her personally. Do you understand me?" he asked. No one answered. "Now get on with it! Put them into custody!"

Some of them began to move hurriedly.

"They're not all of them!" someone yelled. "They'll come again, and _him_!"

"I'll deal with them," shouted Ron. "Now, get back to your jobs. The real ones, not what you were doing these past months. And I want the innocents in Azkaban released, do you understand?"

"Ron," Mr Weasley said, almost pleading. "Have you seen your mother?"

"No, I haven't," Ron answered. "I'll see her later. Now go to work, dad. I'm sure more Death Eaters will come."

But Mr Weasley didn't move. He looked at Harry and Hermione. Hermione felt herself blush.

"Were you with them? All this time?"

"No. I found them yesterday," Ron answered, a bit impatient. "Come on, Dad; do as I've told you."

"But they — you —"

"There'll be time to talk later. Now, let's move. I'm going to search the Ministry for any resistance I can find, there are Dementors and I'm sure not every Death Eater has been put in custody," Ron said, and moved across the Atrium. Mr Weasley stared for a bit at Harry and Hermione and, without a word, he left.

Now the Atrium was swarming with Ministry employees taking Death Eaters and Aurors and putting them into custody. Kingsley was giving orders, quickly taking control of the situation. Hermione was thinking that he would be a good Minister, perhaps one of the best in the history of the Ministry, when Harry turned to her.

"What should we do?"

"I don't know ... Watch if more Death Eaters come, I suppose. And we could help here." She looked at the gash on his cheek. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"A bit, but I'm fine. Let's help."

Hermione nodded, and both of them began to help moving the prisoners to another room. Kingsley was ordering some officials to go to Azkaban. A lot of the workers had now exited the Atrium to head for their offices; others were repairing the damages caused by the battle.

When they had finished removing the bodies of the fallen, Hermione looked around her, a bit anxious. "Perhaps it would be a good idea to block the fireplaces ..."

"Yeah, I think you —" Harry began to say, but he stopped suddenly, his face contorted in pain, and his right hand went to his scar, pressing it with force, and he screamed.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, scared and worried. "What is it? What has happened? Is — is Ron all right?"

Harry nodded, trying to regain control. "He — he knows, Hermione. Voldemort knows that the Ministry is under our control again."

"How? How does he know?" Hermione demanded, nearly hysterical. It was too soon, too soon —

"Someone told him. A Death Eater escaped from here and told him. He is punishing him. He's — he's very, very angry."

"We have to tell Ron and Kingsley!" shouted Hermione, looking around her for the tall figure of the new Minister.

Harry nodded, his face covered in sweat. Hermione realised that he was trying to block Voldemort's rage so he could focus.

"I don't see him," Hermione told Harry, more nervous each second. "He was here two minutes ago ..."

"Then let's find Ron," Harry suggested.

Hermione nodded fervently. "And we must inform everyone. If the Death Eaters try to break into here —"

Hermione couldn't finish what she was saying, because, suddenly, some people let out a scream of terror: several black-robed wizards had burst out of the fireplaces, wands aloft, and ahead of them was Yaxley, the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"What is happening here!" he bellowed. "What are —?" he fell silent the moment he saw the enchanted glittering spheres, still floating in the air with Dolores Umbridge and the Aurors in them. "WHAT'S THIS?" he shouted. "SOMEONE EXPLAINS IT TO ME OR YOU ALL WILL BE ROTTING IN AZKABAN BY THE END OF THE DAY!"

"Potter is there, Yaxley!" yelled another Death Eater, pointing towards Harry. "And that Mudblood's with him!"

"FIGHT THEM!" Harry ordered and shot a Stunning Spell at Yaxley. Hermione pushed her fear off his mind and, taking her wand, began to cast spells against the Death Eaters.

Soon, the Atrium was again a battlefield. Some of the Ministry workers began fighting the Death Eaters, but they were the least of them. Some had fled, and others seemed petrified. Hermione managed to knock out a Death Eater and began duelling Dolohov, while Harry was trying to bring Yaxley down.

More Ministry workers appeared then, and started to fight against the Death Eaters, but Hermione noticed that at last half the fighters in their side where already on the floor. The Death Eaters outnumbered them now, and seemed ready to kill anyone challenging them.

Harry managed to hit Yaxley with a curse, and dodged a spell thrown at him by another enemy. Hermione moved alongside him, the two of them fighting at their best. However, she noticed that more Death Eaters were coming to aid their mates. The situation was getting desperate —

And then, she felt it. Her body shivered and she looked towards her left, where Ron, his face full of fury, his body glowing with power and magic, had Apparated. Two Death Eaters sent Killing Curses at him, but Ron blocked them and, with a flick of his wand, blasted them both away.

Hermione was so utterly amazed by Ron's display of power, so relieved by his sudden appearance that, for an instant, she forgot that she was surrounded by enemies, until a mad, full of rage and hatred shriek drew her attention.

"Take this, you filthy Mudblood!"

Hermione wheeled her head and saw the crazy expression of Bellatrix Lestrange fifteen feet away from her, and saw her slash her wand —

"_SECTUMSEMPRA!_"

Hermione saw the light bursting from the wand, and everything around her vanished, because in the world there was nothing more than absolute, terrible pain: in her abdomen, her chest, her right leg, her right arm; and the only sound she could hear was a loud, awful scream that filled everything. And in a sudden, brief moment of comprehension, she realised that it was her own scream what she was hearing. She felt weary and heavy, and everything seemed to fade out ...

With a loud thud, she dropped onto the floor and knew nothing more.

* * *

><p><em>And this is it! I hope you liked Ron's confrontation with Umbridge, because it's my favourite part. How much I hate her! Sorry to leave you like this, not knowing about Hermione's fate, but —<em>

_Now, some bad news (well, for you, not for me!). After tomorrow, I'll be on holiday (at last!) until the 28__th__ of August, so I won't be able to update so frequently. Don't worry, I won't abandon you! I'll post next chapter on Wednesday. But after that, I don't know. I think I'll be able to post four or five more chapters until the 28__th__. After then, I'll resume posting every two or three days. 'Til Wednesday!_


	13. Wounded and Forgiven

**Wounded and Forgiven**

Someone was yelling in the distance, or so it seemed to her, because she could hear the sound, but cannot distinguish the words. Everything was dark, and she felt oddly numb, as if detached from her own body. She wanted to open her eyes, but didn't know how, because she had no eyes, or eyelids ... She felt _unreal_, as in a dream. What was happening?

She didn't know where she was or why she was surrounded by such darkness, so she attempted to remember what had happened to her, but she could only see an intense white light, and it was painful to try ... But, in a way, that was good, because if she _could feel_ pain, then she _had to have_ a body, after all ...

She tried to open her eyes again, and this time she felt _something_. But her eyelids were too heavy. How could eyelids be so heavy? It wasn't reasonable or logical. Something had to be wrong with her ... So instead trying to see, she tried to focus on the distant voices around her, but she was unable to understand them or know whom they belonged to. It was frustrating.

These efforts made her felt weary again, and knew that she needed to rest. But she wanted — _needed — _to know, she had to find out what had happened to Harry and Ron at the Ministry. _At the Ministry_ ... She felt something arise inside her. That was it! They were at the Ministry! Death Eaters had come to seize control again ... There had been a battle ...

She made a new attempt to open her eyes, and this time she achieved some success. Her eyelids parted a little, and she saw lights and blurred shadows that seemed heads. The voices around her seemed to be getting clearer, but, as consciousness came back to her, so did the pain. Her entire body was aching, and she was unable to suppress a muffled moan.

Instantly, the blurred figures near her got closer, and she was able, at last, to understand the words they were saying.

"Hermione! Hermione, are you fine? Talk to me!" It was Harry's voice, full of anguish and concern. So he was okay ... She tried to smile at him, but she didn't manage it. Next she tried to ask about Ron, but she could only mouth an unintelligible whisper.

"She must rest, Mr Potter!" someone said behind Harry in a reproachful tone. Hermione recognised Madam Pomfrey's voice, and that meant that she must be at Hogwarts...

She closed her eyes again. The effort had left her exhausted.

Someone put a hand over her forehead and caressed her slowly and tenderly. "You're going to be fine, Hermione. You'll be. Everything will be okay," Harry whispered to her, his voice full of affection. But Hermione could tell that he was sobbing, something highly unusual in him. Something was wrong. She knew it.

After a few minutes, she felt a bit stronger and opened her eyes again. This time she could focus, and saw Harry's face bent over her, his hand still caressing her head and hair. His eyes were red and swollen. The deep cut on his cheek was now a deep scar.

"Wha' ... 'appen'd?" she asked in a very weak voice.

"Everything's okay," Harry answered, shushing her. "Don't worry, you must rest."

"I ... wanna ... know," she continued, with great effort. "Is Ron ... Is Ron okay?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, he is perfectly fine. Don't worry, Hermione. We're all fine. Rest."

"M' body ... 'ur's. I ... I cannot feel ... m' righ' arm, 'Arry. Wha' 'appen'd to me?"

Harry dropped his head so she was unable to see her face, but, all the same, she knew he was crying, and harder than before.

"'Arry ...?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange threw a curse at you," Harry explained. "But you'll be fine, you'll see. In no time."

Hermione closed her eyes again, to rest a bit and to regain more energy. Now she could remember. A sudden burst of light, and then unbearable, terrible pain ... But she was alive, and Ron was all right. Everything was going to be all right, Harry had told her ... But she could not believe it, for Harry seemed broken ...

"Wha're you ... not ... tellin' me?" she asked, opening her eyes again. She tried to move her head, so to look around her. It was difficult, but she managed, and saw that she was, indeed, at Hogwarts, in the Hospital wing, her bed partially concealed by curtains. There were more people there: Ginny, and Mr and Mrs Weasley, who were speaking with Professor McGonagall. Ginny's face seemed appropriate for a funeral. "Wha's ... wron'?" she asked again. "Tell me, 'Arry."

Mr and Mrs Weasley and Professor McGonagall stopped talking and looked at her. Hermione stared at Mrs Weasley in the eyes, which were also red. Her expression was pained and sorrowful. She turned towards Harry again, asking silently, her eyes fixed on his, and then Harry broke down completely, and he leant his face into his hands, crying uncontrollably.

"I'm s-sorry, Hermione. I'm s-so s-sorry. I was d-distracted, I didn't see her ..."

"I Don'derstan', 'Arry." Panic was beginning to fill her. She felt more awake, more conscious.

"She used _Sectumsempra_, Hermione. She tried to kill you."

"Bu' I'm alive. I — I'll be okay, won' I?"

Hermione stared at them all in turn, but no one was able to hold her gaze.

"The curse hit you from — from your — your groin to your right arm, across your abdomen and chest, and hitting your right leg, too," Harry said, looking at her, trembling and sobbing. "We — we managed to bring you here, but your — your right leg — And your — your right arm —"

"Harry, you're frightening me," Hermione said, now unsure about whether she wanted to know or not.

"You've lost them, Hermione," Harry continued. "Your — your right arm and your right leg." Harry began to cry again, unable to hold himself. "I'm sorry, Hermione, so sorry."

"No," replied Hermione, shaking her head. "No, it can't be." She tried to sit up, so to see it for herself, but she couldn't. She was too weak.

"Ms Granger, don't!" said Madam Pomfrey. "You must rest!"

"I WANT TO SEE IT!" bellowed Hermione, with all her will and strength. "Help me, Harry."

"No, Hermione, it is not a —"

"Do it!"

No one said anything. Harry nodded and, putting his right arm behind her shoulders, he raised her torso a bit. Hermione looked at her right arm and found nothing. Her right shoulder was covered in bandages, but no arm was hanging from it. Then her eyes moved towards her legs, but only the silhouette of her left one could be seen under the sheet covering her body. Hermione felt suddenly lightheaded; the air in her lungs was not enough, and she began to breathe quicker and heavier. The image before her eyes blurred. She felt about to pass out. "No ... No ..." she muttered.

"That's not all, Hermione," Harry told her, and Hermione knew he was trying to be brave beyond his capability. "As the curse hit you — hit you ... _there_," he said, nodding towards her middle body, "it is possible that — that —" Harry shook his head, unable to finish his explanation, and looked pleadingly towards Madam Pomfrey. Hermione, confused, looked at Mrs Weasley, and saw her crying silently, unable to look back at her.

"The curse caused severe damage to your uterus," the healer explained, her voice hesitant and full of sorrow. "It is highly possible that — well, that you won't be able to get pregnant. Ever."

Hermione looked at Madam Pomfrey. During an instant, her mind was unable to register her words. But after a few seconds her brain finally understood what the healer had just said and she fainted.

o o o

The sound of voices awakened her. For a moment, she didn't remember what had happened, but a few moments later, as a tidal wave, the memories flooded her mind, and the horror of what had happened to her overwhelmed her. She felt tears pricking her eyes, and began to sob quietly.

_It is not fair_, she thought bitterly. _It is not fair. I'm only eighteen. And I wanted a family, someday. Is that too much to ask? Is this my punishment for what I did to Ron? To live like this, without love, with a maimed body and no family of my own? Is this what I deserve?_

Her sobs got louder, and someone approached her. "Hermione?" It was Harry. "Hermione, are you okay? Talk to me, please."

"I want to be alone, Harry."

"I won't leave you," he whispered to her. "I'll take care of you, Hermione, I promise. I promise," he repeated, and he took her left hand between his, and cried with her. And she felt an unbearable rush of affection for her best friend, for this incredibly caring boy, who would never leave her, no matter what.

Hermione cried for a long time, until her eyes ran out of tears, and then tried to sit up and be strong. She tried to wipe the tears from her soaked face, but she no longer had her right arm to do so. She felt herself break down again at the realisation, but tried to hide it. Harry, however, seemed to sense her distress and wiped her face himself. Hermione didn't speak for a minute, trying to regain her composure. She looked around and noticed that there were more people in the other beds, though she could hardly see them, due to the curtains that surrounded the area where her bed was placed. Also, the rest of the Weasleys seemed to have joined Mr and Mrs Weasley there, all of them with pity painted on their faces. Except Ron, who wasn't present. She stared at them for a moment, feeling an odd sensation inside her. After the pain she had caused that family, they were there, with her, giving her their silent support ... It was a great feeling, but strangely, it didn't make her feel better.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Nearly three o'clock," Ginny answered.

Madam Pomfrey approached her and waved her wand over her body.

"How are you feeling, Ms Granger?"

"Like shit," she answered, shocking everyone. She didn't use to swear, but this seemed the perfect moment to start.

"Are you in pain?"

"I can bear it," Hermione said, and asked, "What are the odds that I could — could get pregnant?"

Madam Pomfrey didn't respond immediately. "Few," she finally said. "The damage is considerable. And even if — if you achieve getting pregnant, a — an abortion is very likely to happen." she added, her voice sad and full of pity. "I'm sorry, very sorry, Ms Granger." Hermione's head fell in defeat.

"But surely something can be done!" yelled Ginny. "There has to be some spell ... some potion ..."

Hermione raised her head and looked at Ginny, and felt her insides get warm. At least, she still cared for her. Even though she would never get a family, or find love again, there were people who, despite everything, still loved her, even though she didn't deserve it.

"I'm afraid not," said Madam Pomfrey. "As the wounds were caused by powerful Dark Magic, there is no way we can make her lost limbs grow again, or heal completely the damage done."

"It is what I deserve," Hermione muttered against her bandage-covered chest when the healer moved away to check on another patient. "For everything I did."

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny, furrowing her brow.

"For the pain I caused you all," she explained, looking at the Weasleys, "for what I did to Ron. You should hate me, but you're here, supporting me."

"Hermione —" started to say Harry.

"We don't hate you," piped up Ginny, and Hermione looked at her in the eyes. "It's true," Ginny assured her. "Hate is a very strong word. We were angry at you two, very angry, and disappointed, too. But you don't deserve this, Hermione. You did a lot of good things to us, and were a good friend to me. I'm not telling you that I'm forgetting what you did to Ron, what happened, but I don't hate you. No one of us does."

Hermione looked at the Weasleys for confirmation, and all of them nodded.

"We'll take care of you, dear," said Mrs Weasley, her voice filled with pity. "You suffered this fate for going there with Ron, for fighting alongside him. Arthur told us how you — and Harry — tried to protect and help him when he was Disarmed by that — that monster."

"He didn't need our help," said Harry.

"But you didn't know," Mrs Weasley replied. "I'm not saying all's forgotten," she continued, "but there is nothing more important to a mother than her children's wellbeing," she declared, and sighed. "Ron seems to have forgiven you, so we can try, too. Besides, we know what you did to protect your parents. We would never leave you like this, Hermione, completely alone."

Hermione began to cry again, silently grateful for that wonderful family, which was much more than what she deserved, and soon Mrs Weasley was caressing her head delicately. She couldn't help remembering the last time she had seen Mrs Weasley, that day at The Burrow, when she had clearly hinted that she was no longer part of the family or welcome to their house. And now, here she was, comforting her. She didn't deserve these people.

The members of the Weasley family smiled at her, and Ginny, after a moment of hesitation, gave her a quick hug, and, after moving away from her, she stared at Harry for a moment, and Harry stared at her, their eyes locked in each other's. Ginny gave him a very brief and small smile and a nod and went back to the bottom of the bed.

"Ms Granger must rest," said then Madam Pomfrey. "You should leave for now."

Professor McGonagall nodded silently, and Fred said, "Well, I'm starving and we've missed lunchtime. Let's go eat and we'll come later, shall we?"

The rest of the Weasleys nodded in agreement and, with Neville, they left the hospital wing, but Harry remained there.

"You should eat something too, Harry," Hermione said to him, softly.

"I promised you I'd never leave you, Hermione," he replied, stubbornly.

Hermione managed a small, sad smile.

"Harry ... Where — where is Ron?"

"At the Ministry, I guess," Harry answered, "taking care of everything."

"He has — has not visited me yet?"

Harry shook his head, not looking at her. Hermione turned her head, staring at the ceiling sadly.

"He used his powers to help me bring you here," Harry explained, and then he broke down again, sobbing.

"Harry?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I'm so — so sorry. I couldn't protect you. And when I saw you falling, bleeding like that, I — I almost went m-mad."

Hermione took his hand in hers. "It wasn't your fault, Harry; it was mine. I got distracted when Ron appeared, so I didn't see her. It wasn't your fault at all," she added, caressing his hand with her thumb soothingly, trying to give her best friend the comfort she didn't have. "What happened after that? Do you know?"

Harry nodded. "Mr Weasley told me. Ron blasted nearly them all, and now they're in custody. The Ministry is safe again."

"'_Nearly them all_'?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Bellatrix Lestrange and another Death Eater escaped," Harry told her. "Ron was crushing half of them when you fell to the floor. He helped me to Apparate back here, and Bellatrix used that time to flee," Harry finished, his face full of anger and hatred. "That twisted, crazy bitch. If I put my hands on her someday I'll — I'll —"

"Don't," said Hermione clutching his hand tighter. "What is done is done, Harry," she commented, miserably.

"But it isn't fair, Hermione! It isn't fair at all! You're so young! And you're so wonderful, so amazing ..." he said in desperation. "It isn't fair," he repeated.

"No, it isn't," she nodded. "Or maybe it is. I broke Ron's heart and soul, and now I've got a maimed body. There's nothing we can do about it now. It could be worse," she added, resigned. "I could be dead. Some people died, didn't they?"

"Yeah. Six Ministry workers and a Death Eater," responded Harry.

"Ron?" she asked, and Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. But I don't care, either. After what they did to you is the least thing they deserve."

"And Voldemort knows?"

"Yes, and he went on a rage when they told him. The Death Eaters who weren't put under custody are pretty scared now, I can tell you. He cannot understand how this is possible, how Ron is so powerful all of a sudden. He's doubtful and afraid. He hadn't feared anything since Dumbledore died, but now he is scared, Hermione. Scared of Ron."

Hermione sighed. "Well, at least, it seems that everything is gonna be all right," she said, without any joy. "People won't have to be afraid of him, and Muggleborns won't have to live under fear and discrimination."

Hermione remained silent for a few minutes.

"The Weasleys have forgiven us," she commented, absentmindedly. "You still have a chance with Ginny, Harry," she said, forcing a smile.

Harry looked at her, and shook his head. "My only priority is you, Hermione; taking care of you. I make a mistake once, and lost one of my best friends for it. I won't make the same mistake again. I couldn't protect you back there, but I'll commit my life to you. I'll take care of you. You think that you don't deserve Ron. Well, I don't deserve Ginny, either."

"You cannot give up happiness, Harry!" she shouted at him. "There's nothing you can do for me, and I'd never forgive myself if you gave up your life for me. You've always wanted a family of your own. I cannot have one, but you can," she said, fighting the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "So don't give up. Take your chances, please. Speak to her, let her decide. You know what Neville told us, that she hasn't been happy for a long time. If you two can achieve happiness together, maybe that would right some of the wrongs we did. I know you'll always be there for me," she added, giving his hand a squeeze.

Harry didn't answer, and Hermione knew that he still felt guilty for what had happened to her.

"Go and eat something, Harry. It has been a long day," she suggested.

"I don't want you to be alone."

"I'll be fine. I'm very tired, so I'm going back to sleep. Go and eat something."

"Okay," he accepted reluctantly, "but I'll be back soon."

She nodded, and managed to smile at him. Harry clutched her hand affectionately and left.

The instant Harry went out of the hospital wing Hermione's smile vanished, replaced by an expression of hopelessness and anguish. How wrong she had been two days before, when she had thought she and Harry were lost, and that they couldn't be in a worst situation! And now, after the hope Ron had brought them all, she was here, without a leg and an arm; with her body scarred and, almost surely, unable to have a family someday ... It was the definitive end of every hope and dream she once had had, of a live with Ron, full of love, with a meaningful job and a bunch of beautiful kids awaiting to throw themselves into her loving arms the moment she got home ... Every dream had been shattered. First by a terrible, awful moment of weakness; and now by a simple, brief instant of distraction ...

Tears were streaming down her face as she stared at her left hand. She would have to learn how to write, eat, and use a wand with it. Perhaps she could walk again, with a magical leg like Moody's. She visualized the image in her mind and felt suddenly nauseated.

Her body still ached, and she was too weak to move. She closed her eyes, trying to sleep, to pass out, so that she didn't have to face the cruel, unfair reality. But instead of falling into the blissful unawareness of sleep, she began to think about her parents, about what they'd say once they knew what had happened to their only child ...

She didn't want to think about that, but her mind was pitiless and cruel, showing her images of her mother hugging her, her eyes red and puffy, her cheeks soaked by an endless stream of tears; images of her father, desperate and lost, asking her why, why something so awful had happened to her ...

And she broke down completely; crying and moaning, knowing that nothing would be the same again, knowing that all her dreams had ended ... Wishing, deep inside, that she were dead.

* * *

><p><em>Poor Hermione. Maybe you are sorry for her, or maybe you aren't, but I think that few people deserve such a cruel fate.<em>

_Well, I'm officially on holiday now, and my internet connection is just awful, so I don't know when I'll publish next chapter. Maybe next Sunday, but I won't promise. Anyway, I expect that it'll be up before next Wednesday. Enjoy your summer!_


	14. The White Light

_Well, I'm back! Sorry for the little delay, but I am enjoying my free time very thoroughly! I know some of you think I was too cruel towards Hermione, but you know, war is war. It was Bellatrix who wounded her, not me!_

_And without more rambling, the chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>The White Light<strong>

Forty-five minutes later, when Harry and the other Weasleys returned to the hospital wing, this time accompanied by a sorrowful-looking Neville, madam Pomfrey was changing the bandages covering Hermione's chest and abdomen, but she wasn't paying any attention. Her face was vacant, her gaze distant, her mind far beyond pain and sadness.

"How is she?" she heard Harry ask the healer.

"Physically, recovering," madam Pomfrey answered.

"You zure nozeeng can be done?" Fleur asked.

"No, nothing," the healer answered. "With wounds caused by Dark Magic like this ... there's nothing we can do."

Hermione turned her face towards her friends, trying to smile, trying to be strong for them.

"Snape invented that curse," Harry muttered suddenly, hatred now visible in his face. "He healed Malfoy last year. I'm sure he can do something. Let's bring him here!" he suggested.

"I'm not sure —" madam Pomfrey began to reply.

"We have nothing to lose," Fred intervened. "I'm with Harry. If he could heal Malfoy —"

"I'll go and fetch him," said Harry decidedly.

"I'll go with you," Neville told him hurriedly.

Harry moved closer to Hermione's head and smiled at her. "We'll be back soon, Hermione. You'll be fine."

"Don't worry, Harry. I've accepted this."

"I have not," he retorted, and he and Neville left the room.

They came back fifteen minutes later with the former Potions Master, Professor McGonagall right behind them.

"She was hit with the _Sectumsempra_ Curse," Harry explained, pointing at Hermione. "_You_ invented that awful spell; you healed Malfoy last year, so heal her!" he ordered, his voice barely containing his hatred towards the professor.

Snape looked at Harry for a moment and then moved towards Hermione, examining her cautiously.

"Who did this?"

"Your friend Bellatrix," Harry snarled.

"She's not my friend," Snape retorted.

"Whatever. Just heal her," Harry demanded.

Hermione looked at Snape's face, and he looked back at her with ... pity?

"I'm sorry," said Snape after a minute, moving away from her, "but there's nothing I can do for her."

Hermione was expecting this, but it felt like a blow anyway. Harry, however, looked murderous. "What?" he asked. "You invented that spell!"

"It's Dark Magic. The wounds are healing, but the removed body parts cannot grow back. And some damage cannot be repaired. Nothing can be done to help her."

Harry sighed, desolated, and sat dejectedly on a nearby chair. No one seemed to know what to say, and Hermione, unable to stand their pitiful eyes, turned her head, staring at the potions on her bedside table.

A mere minute later, the doors of the hospital wing opened and Ron came inside, his cloak floating behind him.

"Ron!" Mrs Weasley yelled, greeting her son and moving towards him. "We were wondering —"

"Not now, Mum," Ron interrupted, silencing her with a raising hand, and joined the rest of his family, Harry, Neville, Snape and McGonagall.

"Is everything okay at the Ministry?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Everything's under control. The place is now secure." He looked at Hermione, and she wished to disappear, because she didn't want Ron to see her like this. "How are you?" he asked dispassionately.

After hearing that, Harry stood up and confronted him. "'_How are you'?_" he bellowed, angry. "Where have you been, Ron? She's your friend! She's been here for hours! _Hours!_ She could be dead for all you cared —" Ron looked at Harry and Hermione saw him flinch for a moment, but continued nonetheless. "You told us there was nothing to fear! That everything was going to be okay! Well, look at her, Ron! Look at her! Does she seem 'okay' to you? Answer me, for Merlin's sake!"

"Shut up, Harry," Ron said. His tone was soft, but unmistakably indicating that he would not tolerate such outbursts towards him. "I am powerful, but not almighty. I'm clever and intelligent, but I can make mistakes. Perhaps I made some. However, I didn't drag anyone with me, did I? You came because you chose to." The Weasleys were staring at Ron as if they saw him for the first time. Ron looked at Hermione. "I'm sorry for this, Hermione. I didn't want that anything bad happened to you," he said.

Hermione looked at Ron, but, like always, ever since he had returned, there was no care, no affection, no pity in his eyes. He lamented what had happened to her because she was a living being, a person, but not because she was Hermione, his former best friend, a person he had once loved.

"It's not your fault," she managed to say.

"I see that you've brought Snape," he observed. "He is expert on this kind or magic, isn't he? So I assume you'll be all right. Why hadn't they healed you?"

"All right?" repeated Ginny in utter disbelief. "_All right?_ She's lost one arm and one leg! And, almost surely, she'll never be able to get pregnant!"

Hermione wanted to tell them to shut up and to leave her alone, because every word about her situation, every moment Ron was there, feeling _nothing_ for her, was sheer torture, like dying again and again.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"She was attacked with Dark Magic," explained Snape with a soft sneer, relishing in the fact that this new Ron, powerful as he might be, seemed to ignore things like that, "she can be healed, but not completely."

Ron turned to Snape and looked at him arching one eyebrow. "Says who?" he asked.

"Says everyone," answered Snape.

Ron snorted. "Such ignorance. Sometimes I forget how little you understand about Magic." He shook his head. "I've already told you," he added, his eyes moving between Harry and Hermione, "that there is no such thing as Dark Magic; I've told you that Magic simply _is_."

"Are you — are you saying that — that you can _heal _her?" Harry asked, hope gleaming in his eyes.

Ron took out his wand. "When I showed you the Dark Shadow —"

"The _what?_" Snape asked, intrigued.

"Don't interrupt me," Ron warned him, and Snape shut his mouth. "When I showed you the Dark Shadow," he continued, "I told you that it was one of my discoveries, and that there was just one thing that could stop it," he explained. "Well, the magic that can stop the Shadow is another discovery of mine, as powerful as the Dark Shadow itself."

He concentrated for a moment, and, after a few seconds, a white substance, neither gas nor liquid, flowed off the wand's tip. It seemed to emit a brilliant and intense light, but of a kind that could be looked at without harming one's eyes. Hermione stared at it in awe, and it made her think about Patronuses. The substance moved through the air from Ron's wand until it stayed a foot over Hermione's body, whirling slowly, and Hermione felt something warm, something incredibly good and pure, coming from it.

"This is the White Light, as I call it," explained Ron. "And as the Dark Shadow is pure Destruction, this is the pure force of Life, of Creation. It is the only thing that can stop the Dark Shadow, and it can repair or heal anything, as long as it's not dead or hasn't been destroyed by the Shadow."

Ron moved his wand and the White Light descended upon Hermione, and she felt delicious warmth spreading throughout her body, filling her completely, and felt all the pain, the weakness and the tiredness disappear from her. And it seemed not to affect just her body; she could feel it in her mind, too: the hopelessness, the unhappiness, the sorrow, were being banished away by a relentless wave of pure love and joy. And she felt her body whole again, felt herself more alive and more vigorous than never before, felt every particle inside her vibrating with pure energy. And suddenly, the bandages covering her underneath the nightclothes she was wearing were shed to pieces, and the scars under them started to vanish, the damaged flesh and skin in them healing totally. She heard a yell of surprise, and noticed that her lost arm and leg were growing back, slowly but constantly. New, untarnished flesh was appearing out of nowhere, stretching, taking shape, until both limbs were whole again, and she could feel her foot and her hand. Amazed, she flicked her fingers, marvelling at that simple sensation, aware that her cheeks were soaking wet with tears of bliss and pure delight.

Slowly, as it had filled her, the warmth inside her vanished, and she jumped off the bed, full of life and energy, and stared at her right arm and hand reverently, as if they were a wonder she had never seen before. Beaming, she looked at the others, which were staring at her in awe.

"It — it is not possible," muttered Madam Pomfrey, who seemed petrified. Her eyes, which were now the size of saucers, were fixed on Hermione.

"Hermione?" asked Harry, moving tentatively towards her. "Are you — are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured, nodding vigorously. "Better than fine, I'd say. I — I've never felt better. Never."

"Well, problem solved, then, and in no time," said Ron. "There was no need to make such a fuss over it."

Hermione looked at him, amazed by him, by his skills and powers. She was dying to hug him, to show him how much it meant for her what he had done, but she knew that he wouldn't want it and refrained. "Thank you, Ron. Thank you very much. You — you've brought me back to life," he told him, feeling her eyes water.

"You weren't dead," said Ron plainly.

"When I was there," she said, tilting her head towards the bed, "part of me wished I was."

"Oh, Ron," moaned Mrs Weasley, approaching her son. "You ... You are so amazing ..."

"It's nothing, Mum," said Ron dismissively.

"But it is _something_," Madam Pomfrey replied. "I don't know how you did it, or which kind of magic you used, but what you did had never been done before. You could do such good with that power ..."

"Well, I intend to do some good," Ron said.

"Could you use it with the other patients?" Professor McGonagall asked. "There are more injured here which could benefit from that Magic. Don't you think so, Poppy?"

"Certainly," madam Pomfrey confirmed, nodding. "They could recover faster. Some of them were injured very badly and had pretty nasty wounds which would never be completely healed with our usual means."

"Yeah, I can do it," said Ron, conjuring more White Light with his wand. The whirling, bright substance flowed around him, illuminating the entire room. Then, at a flick of Ron's wand, it divided into several streams, each of them getting inside one of the patients. Only a small sphere of the substance remained near Ron. Hermione observed how the patients began to writhe on their beds, how they were moaning slightly for a few minutes as the amazing White Light worked inside them, healing their body, mind and soul, and finally, all of them sat up on their beds, looking confused and surprised, but perfectly healthy.

"You alone could replace the entire staff of St Mungo," Ginny commented, absolutely amazed.

"I could," Ron said. Then, he took the small sphere of White Light in his hand and turned around to look at Bill. He got closer to him and said, "You can be healed, too." He raised his hand and put the small sphere over Bill's scarred and surprised face. The Light spread over it and Bill lifted his chin and closed his eyes, moaning, as the miraculous substance began to heal his wounds, and, just ten seconds after that, he looked as if he had never met Fenrir Greyback.

Bill touched his face slowly, marvelling at the absence of the scars, and Fleur, with tears in her eyes, approached him and did the same. "Oh, Beel ... Beel ..."

Bill kissed her softly and turned towards Ron, a expression of deep gratitude etched upon his face. "I — I don't know what to — Thank you, Ron."

Fleur hugged him, grateful, but Ron didn't return the gesture. "Get off, Fleur," he said firmly, and she did, looking surprised and confused. "We're finished here," stated Ron. "There are important matters to discuss."

"Yes," Fred said, nodding. "And where you've been all this time and how you've learnt to do things like this would be a good start."

"I'm not going to explain anything about that to you," Ron snapped. "I'm speaking about the new state of things."

"But I'd like to know why you were not at our wedding," added Bill, pressing on. "We were dead worried about you, Ron! When Ginny told us what had happened, and our owls didn't reach you, we —" He shook his head.

Ron fixed his eyes on him for a moment before speaking.

"And I told you already that I won't talk about that. So let's go to the staff room, where we can talk privately."

"I need to change my clothes," commented Hermione.

Looking still a bit dazed, madam Pomfrey disappeared into her office for a moment and returned with the clothes Hermione was wearing before the battle at the Ministry. They were washed and repaired. Saying thanks to the healer, she closed the curtains and changed quickly.

"I'm ready," she announced. Her voice was hoarse, and she still felt as if she had just waken up from a horrible nightmare.

Without allowing anyone to say anything more, Ron exited the hospital wing, and the Weasleys, Neville, McGonagall and Snape followed him. Hermione joined Harry at the end of the group, and he grinned at her.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Hermione," he said, the relief evident in his voice. "It was killing me seeing you like that."

"I'm glad too, Harry."

"We all are relieved, Hermione," said Ginny.

"Thanks, Ginny. For everything." Hermione smiled affectionately at the younger girl. She felt reassured, because part of her had feared that, as she was fine and whole again, the Weasleys would be angry with her once more.

The group reached the staff room, and they all sat down while Ron remained on his feet, to be able to address them all.

"As I've told you already, the situation in the Ministry is under control," Ron informed them. "Kingsley is taking care of everything, the Aurors that aren't under custody are again fighting for the good side, the innocents in Azkaban had been released, and those awful new departments like the Muggleborn Registration Commission have been dismantled." Ron made a pause before continuing, "About forty Death Eaters are in our hands now, but there are still a few at large, and, of course, Voldemort himself, who, I guess, must be particularly angry. Harry?"

"He is, indeed," confirmed Harry. "When Bellatrix Lestrange informed him about the failure attempting to regain control of the Ministry he went mad, frenzied. She and the other two Death Eaters which escaped were severely punished." He looked at Hermione when he said this, smiling at her. "And I must say that, for once, I agree with him for torturing that crazy bit—"

"Mr Potter!" Professor McGonagall yelled, cutting Harry in.

"Well, It's not a surprise he's angry, isn't it?" piped up Fred. "I mean, he's put a lot of work into seizing control over the Wizarding World, and now, in two days, he has lost almost everything."

"At this point, then, the only thing remaining to be done is getting rid of him once and for all," continued Ron. "And I intend to do exactly that, tomorrow at dusk."

"Tomorrow?" repeated Mr Weasley. "You, Ron?"

"Yes, me. I'll duel him and everything will be over. And I intend to do that here, at Hogwarts."

"At Hogwarts?" asked Professor McGonagall, shocked. "You can't be serious! There are students here. You surely aren't saying that you'll let him in."

"I'm saying exactly that," replied Ron.

"Why?" asked Ginny. "Why here?"

But Harry knew the answer. "Because here is where he became powerful," he explained. "He discovered everything about himself in this castle. It was here where he discovered he was Slytherin's heir; it was here where he learnt how to make horcruxes; it was here where he changed his name ... It was here where he committed his first murder and where he recruited the very first Death Eaters."

"Exactly," Ron confirmed. "It seems ... _right_ that his path ends here. But you don't have to worry," he added, addressing McGonagall. "The students won't be in any danger."

"Can you assure that?" Mr Weasley asked. "Ron, this is a very serious question."

"I can," Ron nodded. "I'll take all the necessary measures to keep everyone safe."

"And how do you plan to make him come here?" Hermione wanted to know, speaking for the first time.

"I'll send him a message."

"How? Do you know where he is?" George asked.

"By the way, yes, but I'm not going to send him an owl," said Ron. He looked at his father. "Dad, now you have to go back to the Ministry to aid Kingsley. Moody, Lupin, Tonks and the rest of the Order are alerted already and are helping him. You must go too. There are a lot of things to do."

"All right," Mr Weasley nodded.

"What about us?" Fred asked. "We could go back to the shop, and check Diagon Alley —"

"No," Ron replied. "It isn't safe. Voldemort is desperate, and he knows about me. He could try to attack any of you. So you're staying here, at Hogwarts."

"We can't simply stay here, doing nothing!" protested George. "We are members of the Order, we want to —"

"You're staying here," repeated Ron in a more commanding tone. "If I have to hex you so you can't leave this place, I'll do it."

No one replied, but the Weasleys exchanged glances. It was clear to Hermione that this new Ron was still too strange for them.

It was Mrs Weasley who spoke at last. "This is very odd, Ron." Ron looked at her, saying nothing. "It's ... hard, seeing you so changed, so different. What happened to you? Please, tell us, Son," she added, almost begging.

"I'm tired of saying that I'm not going to talk about these past months," he said, his tone clearly indicating that he was reaching the limit of his patience. "I don't want to be rude, so stop asking."

Mrs Weasley kept staring at his youngest son, clearly affected by the emotionless, dispassionate tone he was using when talking to her — to all of them. Hermione didn't know how the first encounter between Ron and his family had gone, but she was sure that he hadn't give his mother a hug, as he hadn't hugged Ginny the day before.

"If you have nothing more to say," Ron said after a few moments, "then we may go. Dad, go back to the Ministry. Professor McGonagall, can you arrange something so my family can spend the night here?" McGonagall said 'of course' and stood up. "Harry, Hermione, you come with me."

"Where?" asked Harry.

"You'll know," Ron answered, and left the room without another word. Harry and Hermione stared for a moment at the bewildered Weasleys, and, with an apologetic look, they followed him.

"Ron," spoke Hermione, after she and Harry had caught up with him, "I want to thank you again, for saving me."

"It was nothing," Ron said, without looking at her.

"For me, it was," she insisted. "That _White Light,_ or whatever you call it, is ... amazing."

"I know it is."

"It felt incredible, when it went inside me," Hermione continued. "I've never fel—"

Ron stopped and, looking at Hermione, interrupted her speech. "What do you _really _want to say, Hermione?"

"I — I —" she stuttered, not being able to voice the question she was dying to ask.

"This is not the moment," Ron said, not allowing her to speak. "Whatever you're thinking, I suggest you to forget it."

Harry was looking at them, a bit confused. Hermione sighed and nodded at Ron. "Okay, let's go."

They went down the stairs and crossed the Entrance Hall, walking towards the dungeons. Ron stopped outside the room where Draco Malfoy and the Carrows were locked in, waved his wand over the door and it opened. He went in and Harry and Hermione followed him inside.

Draco Malfoy was sitting on the floor. His left forearm was glowing with a bluish light, a charm that would prevent him from touching the Dark Mark under it. Amycus was in the middle of the room, still in the strange trance Ron had put him in, floating near the ceiling, and her sister was bound to a bed, her left arm glowing like Malfoy's, her body covered in bandages and still unconscious.

"Hi, Draco, how are you doing?" asked Ron without interest. Malfoy squeaked and retreated, dragging himself over the floor, trying to get as far from Ron as possible.

"Leave me alone, I didn't do anything!" he moaned, frightened. "You can't keep me locked like this!"

"I can do as I please," Ron retorted, walking slowly towards the Slytherin.

"It's what you deserve," Harry said, his gaze full of loathing. "How many weeks has Luna Lovegood been held captive in your house?"

"I didn't put her in there!"

"But you didn't anything to release her, either," said Hermione. "It's not a surprise, though, as you're nothing more than a cowardly, pathetic ferret."

"What do you want?" Malfoy snarled, his pale face now pink with humiliation and embarrassment.

"Nothing from you," said Ron, and turned to the barely stirring body of Alecto. Ron approached her, and with a few moves of his wand, Alecto's eyes snapped open, and she opened her mouth wide, as to try to scream, but no sound came from it.

"Slept well, Alecto?" Ron asked.

"YOU!" the Death Eater bellowed, writhing under the magical ropes binding her, trying to free herself. "WHAT THE —? Release me NOW!"

"Yelling won't help you."

"Me entire body hurts," she moaned. "What did you do to me, filthy blood tra—?"

Ron touched her with his wand and she screamed in pain, unable to finish her statement.

"I suggest you to be kinder and more cooperative. My patience has a limit, you know, and you don't want to see me angry."

Alecto tried to get away from Ron, but then her eyes caught sight of the weightless, unmoving body of her brother and froze instantly; her eyes wide open in fear. "Amycus! Amycus! What did you do to him? Amycus!"

Ron pointed his wand at her throat and Alecto choked, her face got red and her eyes, full of fear, began to water. After a few seconds, Ron moved her wand and the witch began to splutter and cough.

"I suggest you to worry more about your own life," advised Ron, his tone cold and commanding. He moved his wand over her, and the ropes tethering her to the bed vanished. Upon sensing she was free, she jumped off the bed and tried to get away from Ron, her back pressed to the wall. "I've released you because I require a service from you."

"A service from me?" she repeated. "You must —"

Hermione was sure she had wanted to say 'you must be mad' but she was too afraid to complete the sentence.

"Yes, a service from _you_. I want you to go to your precious Dark Lord and to convey a message from me."

Alecto frowned in confusion, and Hermione and Harry exchanged and incredulous glance.

"Ron?" Harry said. "Are you saying that you're going to free her, to let her go?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," confirmed Ron, his eyes fixed on the frightened figure of Alecto.

"I'm not going to go to my master to —"

"You're going to do everything I tell you to do," Ron said with his soft but clearly commanding tone. "You'll do it, because if you don't, you're going to wish you're dead. And, for your information, I'll tell you that I know means to make people do what I want, means that make the _Imperius _Curse look tame."

Alecto studied Ron for a moment, breathing heavily.

"You're setting me free so I can pass the Dark Lord a message from you?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I want."

"And what is the message?" she asked, still confused, looking wary, as if there were some trap she wasn't aware of.

"Tell him that now I hold control of the Ministry and Hogwarts," Ron said. "Tell him that, if he wants to end this, he'll come to Hogwarts tomorrow, at dusk. Tell him that it is his last chance to stop me, to kill Harry Potter," Ron tilted his head towards Harry, "and to recover — and save — his treasures, his anchors."

"What do you mean, '_hold control of the Ministry_'?" Alecto asked. "The Ministry is under —"

"'_Was'_ is the right tense in that sentence," Ron corrected her. "Now, have you understood the message? Have you memorized it correctly?"

"I don't understand it," Alecto commented. "_Treasures? Anchors?_"

"You don't need to understand, and believe me, it's better for you if you don't know." Ron pointed his wand at her and she froze on the spot, suddenly unable to move a single muscle. Then, Ron touched her forehead with the tip of his wand. There was a sound like of burning flesh, and Alecto yelled in pain. Ron traced a line on her skin and then released her. Alecto, whining, moved away to the corner of the room.

"That hurts!" she moaned. "Please, don't hurt me."

"If you do as you've been told, I won't," Ron said. "What I did to you is a reminder of your true mission. You're now my servant, not his. If you don't give him my message you'll suffer such pain that you'll wish to die," he informed her. "Do you understand me?"

Alecto nodded.

"Wonderful. You'll be able to get out of the grounds now and go back to him," he told her, raising her to her feet. "Ah, one last thing," he added. "He may be a bit ... irritable, after last days' events, so I imagine he won't welcome you with open arms. But you'll go straight to him, or that —" he pointed at the scar in her forehead, "— will make sure you regret your decision. I'm serious: the _Cruciatus_ Curse is better than what my jinx will do to you if you don't obey my orders."

Alecto was trembling in fear.

Ron made her walk before him and the three of them escorted her to the front doors. Once there, he pushed her to the grounds, nearly making her trip over the snow-covered stairs. After that he tossed her wand to her and said, "Go straight to him if you know what's good for you."

Alecto stared at him for a second and then wheeled around and ran towards the gates without looking back.

"The pieces are on the board," said Ron, with one last glance at Alecto before turning round and heading for the marble staircase.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance and followed him.

* * *

><p><em>Well, this is it! Ron is extraordinary and Hermione is as good as new again. Maybe you're wondering why I made her suffer so much to heal her so easily! Well, she was wounded in a battle and Ron has extraordinary powers. And the most important thing about her injuries is that it showed her that the Weasleys still cared for her, despite everything (though she and Harry hadn't been completely forgiven, and no one has forgot what happened), and the emotional suffering she endured. We can see, too, that Ron really doesn't care about her. That's what hurts Hermione the most. And we know about the wonderful White Light, which Hermione has tasted ... something that is good, but has its problems, too. Maybe you know what I'm talking about? The answer is in what Hermione feels when she is being healed.<br>_

_Maybe you're a bit disappointed about the encounter between Ron and Mrs Weasley. Sorry! When some of you told me you were dying to see it I knew it wasn't going to be like you expected. You have to understand that Molly can be scary, but only if you care about her or what she thinks! If you don't ... Besides, remember Percy. Molly never scolded him, she was too glad that he was back with the family. The same goes here with Ron. She is too relieved to see him safe and sound to tell him off! And, of course, like the rest of them, is a bit scared of him!_

_About next chapter ... Well, I can only say that it'll come out around next Sunday, though I can't promise. It may come out on Saturday, or on Monday. See you!_


	15. In the Afternoon

**In the Afternoon**

"Are you sure about what you're doing?" Harry asked Ron. "You've just released a Death Eater, Ron!"

"I'm very aware of what I did, thank you, Harry," answered Ron coldly.

"She'll join him."

"She can't do anything I don't want her to do," Ron explained. "The ... _spell_ — for a lack of a better word — I've put on her will prevent her from doing any harm to anybody."

"But you want him to know that we've been hunting horcruxes," added Hermione.

"Yes. I'm sure that, once he receives the message, he'll go to his hiding places to make sure the horcruxes are safe. He'll know then that they're not, and therefore he'll have to come here to stop us once and for all. It's his only chance."

"If he does come, he'll bring everything he has — Death Eaters, giants, Dementors ..." pointed Harry.

"I know," said Ron. "But don't worry. Everything's under control."

"What if he doesn't come?" asked Hermione.

"Then I'll have to put plan B into action," answered Ron.

"Which is?" enquired Harry.

"Getting him wherever he's hiding."

"And what do we now?" enquired Hermione. "Any plan for the rest of the day?"

"You can relax," said Ron. "You can spend the day in the library if you want, Hermione."

Hermione saw Harry smirking at her, and for a moment it was as if the last seven months hadn't happened at all, as if the three of them were still students ... and friends.

"I don't want to spend the day in the library."

"Why not?" asked Ron. "You love the library. I'm sure you missed it and all the books in it," he commented.

"After what happened to me, the last thing I want is to sit in the library and read," explained Hermione.

"Well, do what you want," said Ron, stopping and staring at Harry and Hermione. "I'm going to inform McGonagall and the teachers about Alecto and then I'll contact the Ministry to make sure everything's all right." He moved towards a corridor that would lead him to McGonagall's office, but, an instant later, he stopped, reached inside one of the pockets of his cloak and extracted a wand from it: his old one. He tossed it to Harry, who caught it with a look of confusion on his face.

"I want you to watch him," Ron said, pointing his index finger to Harry's scar. "If something happens, take the wand and call me. I'll know, okay?"

Harry, still confused, nodded.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled reproachfully. "You can't seriously ask Harry to open his mind to Voldemort!"

"It's useful," said Ron calmly. "So yes, I'm asking him exactly that."

Hermione turned to Harry. "Harry, Dumbledore didn't want you to —"

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said soothingly. "Don't worry. I'm not going to open myself up or anything. But I won't try to shut him out. I want to know what he's doing or thinking, and, as Ron's said, it's useful."

"But you always say you can know anything you need to know," argued Hermione, looking at Ron again. "Why don't you do that?"

"I have means to know things, yes," said Ron. "I can find anyone if I want to, and I can perform some sort of Legilimency — much stronger and more advanced than what normal wizards can do — when I am near someone (that's how I discovered Snape's secret); I even can discover things that happened in a place, long ago; but I cannot replicate the connection Harry has with Voldemort. At least, I can't without being near him first."

Hermione looked questioningly at Harry again.

"It's okay, Hermione," he assured. "It's not as if I hadn't done it before."

Hermione sighed and nodded, still unconvinced but defeated.

"If it's settled," said Ron, "I'm going. See you later."

And before either Harry or Hermione could say anything, Ron strode down the corridor and vanished from their view.

"Oh ..." muttered Hermione, staring at the point where Ron has disappeared. She turned to Harry. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "Don't you want to rest, or to eat something? You were injured very badly, Hermione."

She smiled at him, touched by his concern. "No, I don't need it. I feel great, Harry, seriously. That White Light ... It healed me completely, you know? I feel well rested and as if I'd just eaten. It was ... incredible," she said, with a dreamy tone.

"How did it feel like?" Harry asked, curious. "I was mesmerized, Hermione, seeing your arm grow back, and your leg, and seeing all those scars vanishing and your face regaining colour ..."

"It felt —" Hermione paused, looking for the right words, "like Ron's love did. But more intense, more magical ... It was as if he loved me again, Harry. There's not a better way to describe it," she finished, feeling her face grow hot, and tore her eyes away from Harry's, embarrassed.

Harry gave her a tiny, sympathetic smile. "But that's good, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said. "I tried to bring it up before, but I didn't know exactly what to say, and he told me to forget it," she added, moving again.

"Perhaps he didn't know what you were talking about," suggested Harry.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, frustrated and exasperated. "It's not the old Ron who we are talking about. _Now_ he usually knows everything. Sometimes it seems as if he read our minds."

"According to what he's just said, he probably does," commented Harry, serious.

Hermione remained silent for a while, deep in her thoughts as they both climbed the stairs.

"Where do you want to go, then?" asked Harry after a few minutes. "Gryffindor tower?"

Hermione shrugged. "Okay."

Slowly, they went up. But when they had reached the sixth floor, Hermione looked at the deserted hallway that led to the second corridor, and she, distracted, simply stopped, remembering that it had been in one of the classrooms in that corridor where Ron and she had gone for a snog, that day in May, while Harry was trying to get the memory out of Slughorn ...

"Hermione?" Harry called, but Hermione was not hearing. Her mind was far, far away, reliving that day, feeling again Ron's hands roaming over her body, his mouth devouring hers, his body pressing against hers ... Oh, how much she wished now, how much she had wished, every time the memory had come to her mind, that Filch had not dropped that bucket outside the classroom, interrupting that wonderful snog that had almost become something more!

She could almost feel Ron's kisses, Ron's touches, almost hear his words ... God, how incredibly happy she had been ... And her recent experience with the White Light had only increased the longing she felt.

Her mind went back in time, to that half an hour Ron and she had spent snogging in his bed, just after Harry had departed under the Invisibility Cloak. Neville had interrupted them on that occasion, so they had left the boys' dorm and had sought an empty classroom, just to be interrupted again.

Looking at it in hindsight, it seemed as if the Universe hadn't wanted them to be completely together, to take the next step. And that night she had said to herself that maybe it was too soon, that they were at Hogwarts, and that it would happen in the summer. But, of course, it hadn't, because just a few weeks later everything had gone to hell ...

A lonely tear ran down her left cheek.

"Hermione?" Harry repeated, concerned.

"Eh?" she said, wiping away her tears with her sleeve. "Yes — yes, Harry. Sorry, I just —"

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Harry asked, getting closer to her.

"Nothing, I'm fine," she assured. "Just — just memories, that's all."

"Bad memories?" he asked tentatively.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Good ones. Very good ones."

Harry watched her with an extremely sad expression.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am. If I could help you and Ron get back what you lost because of me, I'd do it. I'd do anything to see you both happy again, like you both deserve to be — like you once were."

"It's not only your fault, Harry. It was mine, too. And we have to live with what we did, and suffer for it."

Harry lowered his head, and, without another word, they resumed their way towards the seventh floor in silence, and, once there, headed for the portrait of the Fat Lady. But when they were almost there, Harry stopped suddenly and let out a scream of pain. Hermione whirled around to face him and saw him pressing his hand against his scar, his face pale.

"Harry? What's happened?" she asked, grabbing his shoulders and looking intensely at his face. "Are you all right?"

Harry moaned again without answering. Hermione knew he must be still in Voldemort's mind, so awaited for him to come back, trying to control her nerves and her growing anxiety. Her knuckles were white because of the pressure with which she was clutching him.

After a while, Harry shook her head, moaned again and finally spoke:

"He is furious, Hermione, he's gone crazy ..."

"What happened?" she asked, frenzied. "Tell me, please!"

"Alecto told him," Harry said with difficulty. "She told him what Ron said, and he — he went on a rage, a dreadful one ... They were in what looked like a drawing room, and he began to destroy things, he was beside himself. Then he started to interrogate Alecto about Hogwarts, using the _Cruciatus_ Curse on her."

Hermione put one hand over her mouth, revolted, and waited for Harry to continue talking.

"Alecto told him everything she knew, crying, but he kept torturing her. She was writhing there, Hermione, screaming and sobbing, begging him, but he continued, even more savagely, and finally, with a slash of his wand, he — he chopped her head off," Harry finished, trembling from head to toe, visibly shaken after the dreadful vision he had experienced.

"He — he killed _her_?" Hermione asked, astounded and horror-struck, and noticed she was trembling.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. He looked sick, the horror of what he had witnessed etched on his pale face.

"Oh, Merlin ... that's awful."

"You can bet," Harry nodded, still rubbing his scar.

"And what is he going to do? Do you know?"

"I think he is going to check his hidden places, like Ron thought he would. He wants to know if it's true that we've found them."

Hermione didn't say anything for a moment, and then looked at Harry, worried.

"Harry, do you — do you think Ron knew?"

"Knew what?" he asked back.

"That Voldemort would kill Alecto."

"I dunno," he answered. "To tell you the truth, I didn't think he would do it until he did."

Hermione bit her lower lip hard, dropping her gaze to the floor, worry and regret filling her mind. Ron had told them that they should restrain him, so he couldn't do anything too harsh ... Had they failed him? Should they have prevented him from sending Alecto to convey that message?"

"I think he didn't know, or, at least, that he expected he would spare her," Harry said suddenly, as if sensing Hermione's thoughts, and she looked at him inquisitively. "Ron, I mean. I think he didn't really expect her to die. Remember that he didn't explain to her what the _treasures_ were. He told her that it would be better for her if she didn't know."

"Yes, I think you're right," muttered Hermione, nodding slowly, trying to convince herself.

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily, exhaling a sigh.

"Are you fine?" Hermione asked him, concerned. "Does it still hurt?"

"A bit, but yes, I'm fine," Harry answered.

"What should we do? Tell Ron?"

"We should. He told us to inform him if something happened." Harry drew Ron's wand, and holding it, said his name. Nothing happened. Harry looked at Hermione, confused. Hermione shrugged.

"I suggest we wait a few minutes," she said. "If he doesn't come, we'll call him again."

"Okay. Do you want to get inside?" he asked, pointing to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"There'll be a lot of people in the common room, as the classes have been suspended," Hermione pointed. "Perhaps it's better if we wa— AAAGH!"

Ron had suddenly Apparated next to them, startling them.

"Merlin's pants, Ron, don't do that!" Harry scolded, panting heavily.

"What happened?" Ron asked with a plain face, ignoring the admonishment.

"Voldemort killed Alecto," Harry explained, "after torturing her."

Ron's expression didn't change. "And what is he going to do?"

"He's going to check on the horcruxes. He's very furious, Ron."

"I expect him to be."

"He killed her, Ron," piped up Hermione, staring at him, anxious.

"Yeah, Harry has already told me that."

"Did you — did you know he was going to kill her?" she asked brusquely.

"It's always a possibility that Voldemort kills someone. But no, I didn't know. I'm not a seer."

"You shouldn't have sent her to him."

"It had to be done. She was a Death Eater. She chose her own path," Ron explained. "I didn't want her to die, but I'm not lamenting her death, either. She had nothing good to give to the world."

"Even so, she was a human being, Ron. Another life has been taken."

"A life's worth depends on how that life is lived, Hermione," replied Ron. "I don't want any more lives wasted. That's why I want him to be here tomorrow instead of looking for him, because he'll bring everything he has, so we can end this war once and for all."

"Have you contacted the Ministry?" asked Harry, changing the subject.

"Yes, everything's okay. I've talked to Lupin and Tonks, too. They're there, helping, and very eager to see you both.

"They are okay, then?" asked Harry, smiling at the mention of their friends.

"Perfectly fine, I'd say. And Tonks is pregnant. You didn't know, did you?"

"Pregnant?" Hermione repeated, and looked at Harry, who was wearing an astonished expression on his face which turned to a wide grin. She beamed, too. It was good to hear about a life beginning in the middle of that war.

"Yes, pregnant."

"That's good news," Harry said, still smiling, "very good news indeed."

Nobody spoke for a while. Hermione wondered if Lupin would look happier than the last time they had seen him, after rescuing Harry from Privet Drive. He hadn't looked very joyful then. And now he was going to be a father. She smiled, and, absentmindedly, caressed her own belly. She had been so close to lose the possibility of having children someday. But Ron had saved her again. Just like once he had saved her present, knocking out a troll, he had now saved her future, healing her with his extraordinary magic. Or had he? Because she could not see herself spending her life with anyone but him, and that seemed rather improbable now, to say the least.

Slowly, she came out of her deep thoughts and looked at Harry and Ron. Harry was asking Ron what he wanted to do now, but Ron was staring at her intensely. Hermione blushed and tore her eyes away from his, slightly embarrassed. Did he know what she was thinking? If he did, no emotion was reflected on his face.

"Let's go to our rooms," said Ron. "If you see something, I don't want everyone watching it. My family also has rooms in that corridor. You can catch up, if you want."

Harry and Hermione nodded and the three walked along the deserted corridors, descended the stairs and headed for the Guest Rooms Corridor.

"I'm going to rest a bit, if you don't mind," Harry said. "I still have a headache. I'll tell you if I see anything more."

Ron nodded. Then, the door next to Harry and Ron's opened and Mrs Weasley stepped out, followed by Ginny.

"Ron, can I speak to you?"

Ron looked at her mother and nodded. Harry waved at them and entered his room, closing his door behind him.

"I — I need to go to the bathroom," Hermione muttered, and went into her room as well.

Once inside, she closed the door, without locking it, and sighed, resting against it. She made her way to the bathroom and looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She looked a million times better than in the morning. Her face didn't reflect tiredness now, and the dark bags under her eyes had vanished completely. Her hair was shinier and the bones in her cheeks were not as visible as before.

"Merlin," she muttered, amazed. "It seems as if I had spent the last months being well fed instead of barely eating ..."

The sound of a door opening distracted her from her thoughts. Curious, she exited the bathroom and found Ginny standing in the doorway, staring at her, her face serious.

"Hi, Ginny," she managed to say, her lips twitching a bit.

"I wanted to know if you are okay, Hermione," Ginny said, and moved to the window, closing the door behind her.

Hermione sat on the bed and looked back at her.

"I'm fine. Seriously."

"Yeah, you look much better than yesterday."

Hermione didn't know what to say, but Ginny didn't seem to expect an answer, and turned to look out of the window. A few minutes passed, and Hermione began to feel slightly uncomfortable. Ginny might have forgiven her, but there were still a lot of things between them. Long ago, she had considered Ginny her best female friend, but that was in the past. Forgiving didn't mean forgetting, or trusting.

Plucking up all her courage, Hermione sighed and began to spoke.

"Ginny, I know you don't consider me a friend anymore —"

"You're right, I don't," Ginny responded rather harshly, turning her back to her, with her arms crossed.

Hermione tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"— but can I tell you something?"

Ginny didn't say anything, but merely stared at her, waiting.

"Gin, Harry and I fell apart as a couple months ago."

"I don't want to hear anything about that, Hermione."

"Please, Ginny," Hermione begged. "Please, just — just listen to me, okay?"

Ginny sighed and, with no little effort, nodded.

"Harry and I fell apart as a couple, even though we were still technically together. Or something like that," she said, "because we never discussed what — well, what we had. And after we escaped from the Ministry, we were isolated, lost. Someone sent a message to us, telling us about the Taboo, but that was all. Nobody talked to us after that. We were alone, and we missed Ron." Ginny arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Yes, we missed Ron. There were no laughs and no jokes anymore, even when we were still at Grimmauld Place; but then, at least, we had our plans and a clear goal. However, after the break into the Ministry, there was nothing more to say. We both knew this, but we never said it out loud, you know, never discussed it, because though the love between us was fading, we only had each other."

"Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?" said Ginny, scowling. "Because if that is what —"

"No, Ginny, that's not it! Please, let me finish," Hermione pleaded, desperately. "I don't know what happened, what drew Harry and me together, but it disappeared as it came, leaving only ashes, sorrow and regret. I'm sure that, had we not been alone and lost, fearing that we could die at any moment, with no one else to talk to or to rely on, we would have broken up officially much sooner.

"Don't get me wrong," she continued, after a brief pause, "Harry is a wonderful man, and any girl who has him will be lucky. He is kind, and loving, and caring ... but I had never felt for him anything but brotherly love."

"That is what you told me, Hermione," said Ginny, and now she looked hurt. "That is why I felt so betrayed. One day you were giving me advice, and going out with my brother, and the next you were with Harry."

"Well, that's not exactly true," Hermione said sadly.

"What do you mean?"

"We weren't together, Ginny, Harry and I. We didn't get _together_, if that's what you want to call it, until days after Harry's rescue from Privet Drive."

"What?" asked Ginny, completely shocked. "But — Ron thought — I thought — in the hospital wing —"

"I was worried about him, and relieved that he was all right, that's why I hugged him!" Hermione exclaimed. "We weren't together, Ginny. We kissed, yes, but we were not together. I won't say we didn't desire to be, but we couldn't. It was not right."

Ginny didn't say anything, taking in what she had heard.

"I'm sorry for what we did, Ginny. You don't know how very sorry I am, how many times I wished I hadn't gone down to dinner with Harry that night. If I could change the past, I'd do it, but I can't." She sighed and paused for a moment, entwining her hands and looking at them before continuing, "Then, yesterday morning, we exited the tent to head for another location, and Ron was there, sitting on a rock, with his new attire and his new looks. For Harry and me, it was as though we were brought back to life." Hermione looked at Ginny again, her image blurred and distorted by the tears welling in her eyes. "And I knew it. Perhaps not straight away, but I knew that I still loved him. I knew that, after all those months, after all the pain, after _Harry_, he was the only one that could make me truly happy, just like he had always been."

Ginny opened her eyes in astonishment. "You love Ron? _Again?_"

"You didn't understand me, Ginny. I'm telling you that I never stopped doing so."

"You were with Harry!"

"I know. I wish I could explain it, or at least understand it myself. What I felt for Harry clouded what I felt for Ron. Exactly like Harry's feelings towards me clouded his feelings towards you."

"Harry had feelings _for me_?" Ginny repeated, bewildered.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Ginny. During the whole year, Harry became more and more attracted to you. Oh, he never told anyone, but I could tell. But you were with Dean, and, when something could have happened — well, you know."

Ginny was trembling now. "Sometimes — sometimes I thought it myself, but I never dared to believe it. And now you're telling me —"

"And he still has those feelings for you. You didn't see him looking at you yesterday at dinner. You have a chance with him, Ginny."

"What makes you think that I have not moved on, Hermione?"

"You tried, Ginny, but you never moved on before, not really, so why should it be any different this time?"

"He had never betrayed Ron before," Ginny replied. Her face reflected great sadness. "Perhaps I didn't move on, Hermione. But it doesn't matter." Hermione put a questioningly expression in her face. "I can forgive him, and, maybe, just maybe, if what you're saying is true, that you two were not together behind Ron's back, even befriend him again ... but I cannot trust him."

And after saying this, she stood up and walked towards the door with determination.

"Ginny, he loves you, I'm sure," Hermione said, and Ginny froze with her right hand on the doorknob, facing away from her. "You have a chance at happiness. We both learnt our lesson, believe me. If you feel something for him, take your chances. I made a terrible mistake, and lost my opportunity with Ron, lost the most wonderful thing I've ever had. I'm not telling you that you should give him an opportunity; I'm telling you that, if you like him, if, despite everything, you still feel something for him, you ought to give _yourself_ an opportunity. Chances at happiness are small and fragile, Ginny. Don't make the same mistake I made."

Ginny's hand trembled as she opened the door, and she exited the room without another word, but Hermione was sure she was crying.

Hermione lay down on the bed, and wiped away the tears that were soaking her face. It had been a tough talk for her, but it was done. Harry deserved happiness, and so did Ginny, and if, after how much pain she had caused, she could help those around her to achieve some, she would do it.

Happiness.

Something that maybe she would never get again, because Ron didn't love her, not anymore. The new Ron didn't have a bright smile, did not joke, did not laugh. He was now cold and detached ...

_But there must be love inside him, mustn't there? _said a voice inside her head, _because you felt it, when the White Light was inside you._

She sighed. She needed to speak to Ron, she needed to know ...

After a while, she got out of the bed and went out of the room. The corridor was deserted and she stood there, not knowing where to go. Was Ron still speaking to his mother?

She began to move towards Harry's door, when Mrs Weasley's door opened, and Ron came out. Hermione looked at his face, but it didn't betray any feeling. Mrs Weasley appeared on the doorstep, and looked at Ron's back sadly. Her eyes were blotchy and moist, and Hermione's heart broke at the sight of this loving and caring mother suffering like that. Hermione didn't know what Mrs Weasley had told Ron, but it was obvious to her that Ron had answered with his now cold demeanour and without the slightest care.

Her eyes found Ron's for a moment, but, just an instant later, a sudden scream of pain coming from Harry's room startled them. Ron turned to the door, opened it and got inside the room, Hermione right behind him, to find Harry writhing in his bed and clutching his head, his hand over the scar. Upon seeing this, Hermione hurried to Harry's side and began whispering to him, trying to calm him, but Ron remained still and impassive.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked softly. "Are you okay?"

"He's there," Harry answered, panting, "in the shack. He's found out that the ring is gone. He's very angry, terribly angry ... And he's frightened too."

"That's good," Ron said. "Very good."

Harry tried to sit up on the bed and Hermione helped him.

"Are you better?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What happened?" asked Ginny from the door. Her mother was behind her, like the other Weasleys. "Are you okay, Harry? Have you seen him?"

"Everything's fine. He's furious, that's all."

"All of a sudden?" piped up Fred, frowning. "Why?"

"He received my message," responded Ron cryptically.

"Are we in danger?" Bill wanted to know, stepping into the room. "Is he coming?"

"No, not yet," said Harry.

"There's nothing to worry about," said Ron. "There's no way he can get in here before tomorrow."

"There's time to have a bit of fun, then?" commented George, trying to alleviate the tension. He looked at his youngest brother. "Hey, Ron, why don't you come with us so we can catch up a bit?"

Ron whirled around and faced his brothers. "No, there's nothing to tell."

Fred and George looked rather offended, and Fred said, in a serious tone, "Look, Ron: there's no need to speak to us like that. We haven't done anything to you. We're still your family, although you seem to have forgotten that."

"I haven't forgotten anything. I've told you this before, more than once, so I'm going to repeat it just one more time," replied Ron, in a very cold tone. "I'm not the Ron you knew. I've changed and there's no way things can turn back into what they were, do you understand? So stop with that 'we're family' rubbish, because it won't work, not anymore. Is it clear?"

"There's no point in arguing with him," said Ginny sadly, looking at her brothers' and sister-in-law's shocked faces. "It's time to move on."

Hermione saw Mrs Weasley retreat silently, her eyes shimmering with tears. Ginny went after her, and the rest of the Weasleys followed. Bill threw one last glance at Ron and closed the door.

"You could try, you know. For them," said Harry.

"You want me to pretend around them?" asked Ron. "There's no point in that. The sooner they accept how things are, the better for them."

Neither Harry nor Hermione knew what to say.

"I'm going for a walk," Ron said, abruptly. "I'll see you at dinner," he added, and left the room.

"Do you think he's going to tell us what happened to him, sometime?" Harry asked, a few minutes later.

Hermione shrugged sadly. "I don't know, but I don't think so."

"What do you reckon happened to him, Hermione?"

"I know the same as I knew yesterday," she answered, "but I've been thinking, and what intrigues me the most is how he knew what to do," she said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, staring at her.

"Think, Harry: Ron was a good wizard, but not the most gifted or skilled out there. One day he leaves and, seven months later, he reappears, changed, and is suddenly the most powerful wizard in history. A bit strange, don't you think?" Hermione reflected, biting her bottom lip. "How did he know how to achieve that? It can't be easy, or Voldemort would have done it himself. But he didn't and, according to everything I've ever read, so did nobody else. These things, the Dark Shadow, the White Light ... they had never been seen before."

Harry thought about it for a while.

"Good question, Hermione. That's a very good question ... Certainly, he didn't find out in the library. Perhaps someone told him?" he suggested.

"Who?"

"Dunno."

They fell silent, both deep in their own thoughts.

"I talked to Ginny before," piped up Hermione a bit later. Harry, who was straddling the chair in his room, raised her head to look at her.

"About what?"

"You," Hermione blurted out.

"Me?" said Harry, surprised. Hermione nodded. "And?" he asked.

"I think she still fancies you, Harry. But if you want a chance with her, you have to regain her trust."

"Her trust? What do you mean?"

"She has forgiven us, or is in the way of doing so, but she doesn't trust us, for what we did to Ron. If you want a chance, you have to sort out that, make her trust you. You'll have to work hard."

Harry sighed. "I don't know if I can do that. I'm not sure if I _should_."

"You have to try. Not for you, but for her."

"She's better off without me."

"Are you sure of that?" Hermione replied.

Harry stared at her for a long time, without answering, and then asked, "And what about you, Hermione? You're worrying about my love life. What about yours?"

Hermione let out a brief, mirthless chuckle that was almost a snort. "There's no much I can do in that area. Besides, I betrayed Ron. You didn't betray Ginny."

"Ron is not the only boy in the world, Hermione. Any man would be fortunate to have you."

Hermione smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry. But I don't know if I can love another man the way I love Ron. It's been almost forever, you know. I've never fancied anyone else. It's always been Ron for me. Well," she said, sighing, "at least, until I began to see you under a ... _different _light_._ And even now I don't understand how that happened."

"Yeah, it's strange to think about it now, isn't it? I don't understand it, either," Harry said, and sighed as well. "But you're forgetting someone, Hermione," he added, smirking. She furrowed her brow, confused, and he mouthed, "Lockhart."

"Harry!" she admonished him, throwing his pillow at him and blushing furiously. "That doesn't count, I was twelve!"

"Thirteen," Harry corrected her. Hermione laughed, and she realised it was her first laugh in months. In fact, she had not laughed since last June, at least. Harry was grinning widely, too, but there was a trace of sadness in his smile. "It's curious," he said.

Hermione's laugh faded and she stared at him with a small smile.

"What's curious?"

"That now that we are just friends again, as we should have always been, it's the first time I've made you laugh. We didn't laugh, not a single time, since last June."

"I know. There wasn't much to laugh about."

"No, there wasn't," agreed Harry. "And Ron wasn't there to make us laugh. _To make you laugh_."

Hermione didn't answer. It hurt to think how stupid they had been. And it amazed her how deep her misery had been, during those months in the run. Back then — well, until the day before, actually — she had thought that they had been somewhat happy before having to flee. But now, examining those two months they had spent in Grimmauld Place under a new light, it was obvious that they had never been _truly_ happy. They had had a resemblance of happiness, yes, but not _true_ happiness. They had simply fooled themselves, because it had been the only way to go on and be strong enough to do what they had to do and fulfil their mission ...

"You're a good friend, Harry."

"No, I'm not," he stated. "Maybe I was, long ago, but not now."

Hermione looked at him, surprised, but before she could say anything, a sudden knock on the door drew their attention.

"It's open," said Harry loudly.

The door opened, revealing Ginny, Fred and George. "Hi, am I interrupting?" she asked, almost shyly, but in a slightly accusing tone.

"No, not at all," quickly answered Hermione. "We were just discussing what is happening."

"It's almost dinnertime," Ginny said, "and we are going to the Great Hall. You coming?"

"Yes, I'm starting to feel hungry," Hermione said, getting to her feet. Harry stood up, too, and they exited the room.

* * *

><p><em>Well, another chapter. A lot of talking and emotional stuff! Next chapter will be out around Friday. And next Sunday I finish my holidays, so I'll be able to update more regularly.<em>


	16. Secrets Revealed

_Well, I'm back! First of all, sorry for the delay, I know I told you this chapter would be ready last Friday, but holidays are unpredictable! And this weekend I had a terrific party to go to. I wasn't in the right state to publish neither Friday, nor Saturday, nor yesterday! In fact, I should be sleeping right now, because that is what my body and head are craving, but I have to work!_

_Secondly, about last chapter. It still surprises me that some people believe that Harry doesn't regret what happened. Well, he does. Remember in last chapter when he told Hermione that he wished he could do anything to help her and Ron regain what they once had, and said that he was not a good friend. That shows remorse, and desire for redemption._

_I know we don't see Harry's regret the same way we see Hermione's, but don't make the same mistake H/Hr shippers do: they think Hermione and Ron have no time together, that they don't share anything except for Harry, without taking into account that the books are written from Harry's POV. This story is written from Hermione's POV, so obviously, we know what she thinks. And besides, Harry is not Hermione. He doesn't speak about feelings and such things the same way she does, but that does not mean he doesn't think about them._

_I forgot mentioning, at the end of last chapter, that that moment Hermione remembers when she and Harry reach the sixth floor is also part of my background material. It may become a one-shot one day, and is entitled 'Almost Ready', for obvious reasons._

_Just one more think before the chapter. Remember that you still don't know what happened! You have clues, but don't know the real story._

_Ah, another thing! This is the longest chapter so far. And get accustomed to it, because the chapters are getting longer. I mean, it is the 15__th__ chapter (the Introduction is not part of the story) out of 27__and we haven't reached half the length of the story. This chapter ends in page 113, and the document has 285 pages …_

* * *

><p><strong>Secrets Revealed<strong>

"Your mum isn't coming?" Hermione asked Ginny as the group — the four Weasley siblings, Fleur, Harry and Hermione — headed for the staircase.

Ginny's face saddened. "She said she wasn't hungry and that she was going to wait for Dad, but I think that what she really wants is to be alone. She has taken this whole thing with Ron very badly. Ron refused to explain anything to her, didn't give her a hug or a kiss ..." Ginny shook her head. "Well, you know how he's being, but to Mum it was like a slap in her face. She cried, you know, and Ron's expression didn't change a bit upon seeing her. He stood there, looking at her as if she were a cat sleeping on the floor. I was tempted to slap him," she confessed, angry.

"You didn't!" Harry exclaimed, surprised and afraid.

"Of course not," Ginny replied, and Hermione saw her shiver. "He scares me. It's Ron, my brother Ron, and something in him scares me."

"He scares us too," piped up Fred, trying to comfort her sister. "He acts as if he had lost his soul or something like that. It's bloody frightening."

"You didn't see him this morning, at the Ministry," Harry intervened. "The way he beat the Death Eaters and Aurors there ..."

"Eet eez a good zing, 'is powers and all zat," said Fleur suddenly. "But I liked the old Ron more. Zis one eez too strange, too serious."

"You're right," Hermione agreed. "I preferred the old Ron, too," she added, without thinking.

"You should have thought that last year, don't you think?" snapped George.

Hermione felt herself redden, ashamed, and dropped her gaze.

Everyone stared at him, but no one said anything.

George looked at Hermione, and an apologetic expression appeared on his face. "Sorry, Hermione. Ginny told us that things had not happened the way we thought they had. It –- It's just that seeing Ron like that —"

"You don't have to apologise, George," she assured, looking at him with a serious expression. "You've said nothing but the truth. This is my fault."

"_Our_ fault," muttered Harry.

Nobody replied.

They were passing the second floor when they began to hear the sound of several voices yelling angrily in the Entrance Hall. They exchanged a worried look and hurried down. When the Hall came into their view, they found that a bunch of Slytherins, led by Crabbe, Goyle and Theodore Nott, were arguing loudly with Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn.

"I demand an answer, you old bitch!" was yelling Crabbe in that moment, leaning menacingly towards McGonagall. Hermione grasped in surprise, and Slughorn began to say, 'I don't think that _such_ language is —' but McGonagall didn't flinch; she merely clenched her lips tighter.

"Mr Crabbe, it's obvious that seven years of magical education in this place hasn't done much for your manners. Even less than for your magical abilities, I daresay," she replied contemptuously.

"Are you insulting me? Are you, eh, old cow? Do you want me to _crucio _you, eh?" Crabbe threatened, sounding furious.

"We want to know what's happening," interjected Nott. "There are rumours that say the Ministry has fallen, and that some officials are dead. Some of them are our parents, and we —"

"Ah, so now you refer to your parents as 'Ministry officials', don't you?" blurted Harry furiously, moving towards them and taking out his wand. Hermione did the same almost unconsciously, and saw the other Weasleys clutching theirs, ready to act. They all seemed furious by the way Crabbe was addressing Professor McGonagall.

"There you are, Potter!" Crabbe bellowed, glaring at Harry venomously. "Surely you know something, don't you? You went to the Ministry!"

"What I know is that those criminals you have as parents are going to receive what they deserve."

Nott drew his wand, and Goyle did the same. Four or five Slytherins imitated them, but the rest looked doubtful and even a bit scared.

"Stop this right now and put your wands down if you don't want to face detention, or worse, expulsion!" ordered McGonagall.

"Shut up!" Crabbe snarled, rounding on her. "You're not in command here. You'll soon be finished, just like them," he threatened, and pointed to Harry, the Weasleys and Hermione. "Where are Professor Snape and the Carrows?"

"They are in their proper place," said Harry, barely containing his anger, "and soon they will be in a nice cell in Azkaban."

"I'm going to enjoy seeing the Dark Lord finishing you off, Potter!" shouted Crabbe. "He'll come. Your time is over!"

"Yes, because it is my time now," said a cold and commanding voice from the doorstep of the front doors, and every head turned towards it. The doors were now open, and Ron was standing there, his cloak flapping as the snow fell behind him. His wand was in his right hand, and a cold fury was visible in his eyes.

Crabbe, impulsively, began to raise his wand, but, before he could do anything, there was a flash of red light and he was hanging in the air, face down, with five red rings holding him by his neck, his wrists and his ankles.

"LEAFF ME!" he shouted, struggling and trying to release himself, but to no avail.

Ron advanced slowly, and the rest of the Slytherins retreated. The ones who had drawn their wands looked now apprehensive and much less brave than before. Crabbe yelled again, and Ron, without a glance, pointed his wand at him and he fell silent: his lips were now glued to each other.

"I told you yesterday not to cause trouble. I _warned_ you," Ron said dangerously. "But I suppose you have to learn the hard way."

At once, the group of Slytherins with the wands out, who must be, Hermione suspected, Death Eaters' children, raised them, as if they were ready to fight. Ron saw this and let out a cold, mirthless laugh that sent shivers down Hermione's body. "I beat thirty Death Eaters and Aurors at the same time today, and you think _you_ can defeat me?"

"You're lying," dared to say a bulky boy defiantly. Ron stared at him and he flinched.

"Am I, Selwyn?" Ron said, softly. "That's your surname, isn't it? Your father wasn't in a very good shape last time I saw him. He tried to kill me, you know ... so I had to retaliate, of course. I destroyed his legs, and he was bleeding profusely. I'm not sure if he will be able to walk again ..."

Selwyn's face went suddenly white and his mouth twitched. "No, that's not true."

"It is," Ron assured him. "But don't worry. The ability to walk is unimportant in Azkaban, he'll be able to have a normal life there." He made a brief pause before ordering, "Drop your wands, now. If you don't, I'll take them, and I assure you that it will be rather unpleasant for you."

Nearly all of them did as were told, even Goyle. But Nott didn't do anything, his eyes fixed on Ron. He was pale and sweating, but stood bravely against his enemy.

_Wrong choice_, thought Hermione.

Ron's eyes roamed over the defeated Slytherins, and then fell on Nott. He stared at him for a second, warningly, and then there was a streak of light and Nott landed on the floor, unconscious. His nose was bleeding.

"Mr — Mr Weasley," began to say Professor McGonagall, afraid. "I think it is not necessary to —"

"Well, _I do think_ it is," Ron replied. "Nott is of age. They are making their own decisions; no one of them is being forced to do this. This is a war, Professor," He stated, and stared at her for a moment. "This _boy_," he continued, pointing up at Crabbe, "had no problem using the _Cruciatus_ Curse against fellow students. An Unforgivable Curse. And he is perfectly capable of murder. I think that school rules and caring for the students' wellbeing don't apply here, in case you can call Crabbe a student."

"What are you going to do with him?" asked Harry.

"I'm going to leave him like that, for a few hours. And then he will join Malfoy and Amycus in their cell. Tomorrow he will be sent directly to Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" muttered Pansy Parkinson.

"Yes, Azkaban," confirmed Ron. "It's where he belongs. And I still have to decide about you, Goyle, and a few others. So I advise you all to be careful. I won't tolerate another rebellion, do you understand?"

No one said anything.

"I asked you if you understand," Ron said, his voice hoarser and more demanding.

The Slytherins muttered several feeble 'yes's' and 'we do's', avoiding Ron's eyes.

"Go to the Great Hall then," Ron ordered, and they complied quickly, relieved for being able to walk away from him.

Hermione climbed down the last stairs and joined Harry. She noticed then that there were a lot of students from the other houses watching the scene; they must have arrived during the confrontation between Ron and the Slytherins.

"There's nothing to see here!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "Everyone go to the Great Hall now!"

The students began to move, whispering and throwing glances at Ron, Crabbe and Nott.

"Horace, please, take Mr Nott to the hospital wing," requested McGonagall. "Or do you think we should put him with Mr Malfoy and Amycus?" she asked Ron.

"He can go to the hospital wing for now. He won't wake until tomorrow," Ron commented. "Tell Madam Pomfrey to simply let him rest," he added, looking at Slughorn. The Potions Master nodded and levitated Nott's unconscious body towards the staircase. Professor McGonagall glanced at Crabbe once more and, sighing, went into the Great Hall. Harry and Hermione got nearer Ron.

"Are you really going to leave him like that?" Harry asked, pointing to Crabbe, whose face was red and was still struggling, trying to get free, but unable to do so.

"Yes. He needs time to think about his actions. Now he's got plenty."

"Nice," said then Fred, grinning approvingly, approaching them with George and looking at Crabbe. "Good trick, Ron. You have to teach us how to do that; perhaps we could make something with that spell. The Bind-in-air Gum or something like that."

Ron glared at him. "It's not a joke," he snapped, and Fred's grin vanished instantly.

"You know," George added, frowning, "you were funnier before. I'm not very fond of this new serious side of you."

"Sorry," said Ron, but he didn't seem sorry at all.

"Stop it," interjected Harry. "Don't figh— Agh!" he yelled suddenly, closing his eyes in pain and clutching his forehead, pressing his hand against his scar.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, getting worried instantly.

"Are you okay? What's wrong with you?" enquired Fred, also preoccupied.

"He's in the cave," muttered Harry, still in pain. "He's there and he's discovered the locket's gone ... He's terribly angry. I think he's going completely mad."

Ron didn't say anything.

"What cave?" George asked, looking at them. "What locket?"

Ginny and the other Weasleys were now surrounding them too. "Is it another of those horcruxes?" she said.

"Horcruxes?" repeated Bill, confused. "What's that?"

"This is neither the time nor the place," Hermione replied, looking around at the people passing past them.

"He knows that we told him the truth, then," said Ron at last. "Perfect. He'll act as we planned, I'm sure." He looked at Harry. "We have all the information we need, Harry. You can stop monitoring him."

"That's easy to say," Harry muttered, rubbing his scar. "I'm not choosing to see this, and you know it."

"Come on, let's have dinner," Ron proposed, changing the subject and turning around to go to the Great Hall. Harry rubbed his head a bit more and, telling the others he was fine, he began to move.

Dinner was quiet and uneventful. Hermione, who had been feeling well fed since Ron had healed her with the White Light, noticed she was healthily hungry once the food began to appear on the tables, and, without a word, started eating eagerly.

"I thought you weren't very hungry," Harry commented, upon noticing the enthusiasm which with she was devouring her meal. "We could have gone down to the kitchens and Dobby would have given you something to eat," he scolded her.

"I wasn't hungry," responded Hermione. "But I am now."

"The White Light heals you absolutely and completely," piped up Ron, who was sitting in front of them. "It calms hunger and thirst. In fact, it gives your body exactly what it needs to be whole and healthy. That's why you're hungry now. A good appetite is a symptom of good health," he explained, and took a sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet.

"You're not a good example of that," Hermione observed, as Ron was not eating anything, but barely drinking.

"My case is different, I've explained that yesterday."

Hermione kept eating, and only stopped when Mr and Mrs Weasley entered the Great Hall, accompanied by Lupin and Tonks, and joined them on the table.

Hermione beamed at them, and, getting up quickly, congratulated Lupin (who seemed younger and happier than ever) and hugged Tonks, who was now very pregnant.

"I am so happy for you," she told them.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Tonks brightly. "We're so glad you three are fine. We've been dead worried during these past months."

"But now everything seems to be going well, doesn't it?" Lupin commented, releasing Harry, whom he had embraced, and looked at Ron, who was talking to his dad.

"Yes, it seems so," Hermione nodded, also looking at Ron.

"Well, there's a lot to tell, a lot to hear, and we're pretty hungry. It's been a long and hard day," said Lupin, helping Tonks to sit down on the bench and joining her a moment later.

The dinner went on for about an hour, all of them eager to know what has been happening with one another's lives. All of them except Ron, who after asking her father about the Ministry hadn't said anything more, and Mrs Weasley, who seemed still rather sad and had barely eaten anything at all.

They stood up to leave the Great Hall when almost all the students were already out and in their common rooms. Lupin and Tonks started to say goodbye, but Harry stopped them, frowning.

"You're leaving?" he asked. "You're not staying here?"

"We have our own house, Harry," said Lupin. "Why should we stay?"

"Because Voldemort's in a rage, Remus! He's absolutely mad, totally frenzied! The Weasleys are staying here because he might attack them! Every member of the Order is in danger!"

"Harry is right," pointed Professor McGonagall, who had joined them twenty minutes before. "Perhaps you ought to sleep here tonight."

"The Ministry has been taking care of that," replied Lupin. "We're well protected. Now Voldemort is not in charge anymore. We'll be fine, don't worry."

"Ron?" asked Hermione hesitantly. "What do you think?"

"They aren't in immediate danger, but it would be safer for them if they stayed here."

"Then it's settled," Harry said, not letting Lupin retort. "Tonks is pregnant; you ought to stay here, where you're safe."

Lupin looked interrogatively at Tonks and she shrugged and smiled.

"All right, then. We're staying," he accepted.

Harry smiled, looking positively relieved. McGonagall announced that she was going to go with them to give them a room.

Once the entire group climbed the stairs and had reached the Guest Rooms Corridor, Ron told Hermione "come with us to our room."

Hermione nodded. Ginny was watching them, but Ron didn't ask her to go with them. Harry noticed and looked at Ron.

"And Ginny? Can she come?"

"No. You can tell her what I'm going to tell you on another occasion, if you want."

"Fine," Ginny snapped. "Goodnight, Harry, Hermione. See you tomorrow." And without another word, she headed for her parents' room and went inside, closing the door rather loudly. The three of them entered Ron and Harry's room and Ron closed the door and sealed it.

"Sit down," he told them. Hermione exchanged a worried look with Harry and both sat down on the bed.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, unable to conceal his anxiety. "Is there something wrong?"

"Technically, there is," said Ron, leaning against the desk

"Explain yourself," demanded Harry.

"I will. But first, I want you to spy on him. I want to know what he's doing."

"Ron!" Hermione protested. "You cannot ask Harry that all the time! He is not supposed to —"

"Actually, Hermione," Ron interrupted her, "he is."

"What? Dumbledore —"

"Dumbledore isn't here," argued Ron quickly. "Think, Hermione, think about the prophecy. It says Harry will have a power Voldemort doesn't know of. It says that it will mark him as his equal, and that Harry is the one with the power to vanquish him. Isn't that right?"

"It is," Hermione acquiesced. "But —"

"And Dumbledore told Harry that this power is love, didn't he? And it is. Dumbledore was right. But tell me, Hermione: why does that make Harry so different? Don't you love, too?" he asked, but continued speaking without letting her answer. "Yes, you do. However, the prophecy doesn't speak about you, does it? Harry has love, yes, that's a very important part of it. It's the _essential_ part of it, but not _all_ of it. It would be nothing without another part: the fact that Harry is privy to his thoughts and his secrets. Harry can see inside him, while, because of Harry's ability to love, Voldemort cannot stand to do the same. Don't you understand?" he asked them. "That connection, the thing that causes it, is an essential part of your power against him, Harry. You have to use it."

Hermione didn't reply, thinking about what Ron had told them. It made sense, but even so ...

"Maybe you're right, Ron. But I don't like Harry seeing —"

"Neither do I," said Harry, cutting her in. "But if Ron needs me to do it, I will. It has been useful in the past."

"Then do it now. Tell me what he's planning, what he's thinking. It should be easy; his emotions are running high at this moment."

And Harry did it. He closed his eyes, and, in no time, he was no longer there, but far away. Several minutes went by before he opened his eyes again, rubbing his scar.

"Well?" asked Ron.

"He is nearly desperate," Harry began to tell. "He is alone — well, except for Nagini — in a dark room, I don't know where. He is dead worried about his horcruxes. He is thinking about the others, about the one here and about the one placed in Gringotts ..."

"In Gringotts?" asked Hermione, dumbfounded. "He has a vault?"

"It is in the Lestrange's Vault, I think," guessed Harry. "He gave the diary to Lucius Malfoy. It is logical that he had confided another horcrux to Bellatrix and her husband, who were his most devoted servants. And Gringotts is the safest place to hide anything, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is in the Lestrange's vault," confirmed Ron. "Do you see, Hermione? How would you have found out where this horcrux is without Harry's insight into his mind?" Hermione didn't say anything, and Ron's eyes moved to Harry again. "Continue."

"He wants to go there. To Gringotts, I mean, but he knows he cannot, not at this moment. He is reuniting his forces to attack Hogwarts. And he doesn't have the intention to be merciful or careful. He wants to kill, as many of us as he can. But he's also full of doubts. He doesn't know if he should wait, or if he should attack now."

"Okay, I don't need to know anything more," Ron said. "I don't need you to spy on him again. It doesn't really matter if he sends some of his Death Eaters tonight or not. Therefore, I think this is the right time for me to tell you what Dumbledore trusted to Snape, the secret he wanted to tell you yesterday."

"What is it?" Harry asked, sounding very eager. "Tell me. Please," he added quickly.

"It is related to what we discussed before," Ron began. "To your power, Harry; the ability to peek into Voldemort's mind, to see what he sees, to know what he thinks." Ron paused for a moment. "The night he tried to kill you, Voldemort had ripped his soul in six pieces, as you know. Ripping the soul makes it unstable, and doing it so many times only makes it worse. So, when the Killing Curse rebounded and hit him, his body was killed and destroyed, and his soul was expulsed from it. But, unstable as it was, and after two murders and the attempt of killing a baby, it broke again, and a new piece, unmissed by him, latched itself into the only living being there: you," Ron explained, pointing at Harry's scar.

Harry's eyes widened, and he went pale. He seemed unable to speak and more than a little scared.

"What — what do you mean? What does _that _mean?" He managed to say after a few seconds.

"That means that, even though Voldemort didn't perform the spell, you became a horcrux to him, Harry: the sixth horcrux."

"No, it can't be," said Hermione, shaking her head furiously while trying to take in that information.

"It can," Ron replied. "That's what makes Harry 'his equal', that is what gives him the ability to read his mind, the ability to speak Parseltongue. Of course, as you're not a proper done horcrux, the piece of soul tries to escape, tries to return to his source whenever Voldemort is near you. That's why your scar hurts when he's close. That piece of his soul, Harry, doesn't like being inside you, because it cannot stand your soul."

Harry jumped to his feet and began to pace back and forth the room.

"And Dumbledore knew this?" he bellowed, now furious. "He knew and, instead of telling me, he told _Snape_?" he asked, saying the name spitefully. "Why? And how do you know it? Did you read his mind?"

"I did, for a fact. But I found out the truth the moment I arrived at that hollow, yesterday morning. I was there, outside your tent, and I felt it. I can see it inside you as clearly as I can see the scar on your forehead. After acknowledging the presence of that piece of soul, I understood what had happened that night in Godric's Hollow."

"But why didn't Dumbledore tell me? Is this some sort of a twisted game? Instead of valuable information, he gave us a book, a snitch and wanted to give you a deluminator!"

"He didn't make it easy, no, but well, he didn't know what I'd be able to do, so he had to make sure things were going to come out all right. Sometimes, the easy way is not the best way," Ron said enigmatically. "And for your information, I have the deluminator," Ron told them, and extracted it from one of his pockets. "I took it from the Ministry today."

"You did?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"Forget the bloody deluminator," snapped Harry. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Dumbledore ordered Snape to tell you about this if Voldemort began to fear for Nagini's safety, because that would mean that we had managed to destroy some or all the horcruxes. And he couldn't tell you before simply because for that piece of soul inside you to be destroyed, Voldemort has to kill you."

"WHAT?" Harry yelled, and Hermione let out a high-pitched cry.

"Yes. To destroy a horcrux, you have to destroy its container. If it is a living being, it means that the subject has to be killed."

Harry dropped onto the bed, pale and looking suddenly tired and betrayed, his head hanging against his chest in defeat. Hermione could not believe what she was hearing ... Harry _a horcrux_? Trembling, she raised her right hand and moved it towards him tentatively, but, not knowing what to say, she dropped it again before touching him.

"So it is like that, isn't it? I'm supposed to die. In the end, I am no more than a pawn in this game, the piece to be sacrificed."

"Technically not," said Ron. "Magic is complex, and has its own deep laws. Voldemort seems to ignore important ones. You know, when he used your blood to resurrect, he took some of the protection your mother left on you into his own body. I guess he meant that charm to protect him, too — that's what you said to us, isn't it? But that protection is powerful magic, a magic whose purpose cannot be altered. And that purpose is to protect your life. _Your life_. From him. So, while Voldemort lives, so does that protection, and, theoretically, so do you."

Harry raised her eyes to meet Ron's. "What do you mean? That I cannot die while he lives? But then, how can the horcrux be destroyed?" he asked, confusion etched on his face.

"You _can_ die," said Ron. "But you can also survive. In theory. This is not a mathematical equation, you know. This is a matter of wills and circumstances, though I daresay that, most probably, you would live. But even in that case, the piece of soul would be destroyed by the Killing Curse cast by its own owner, and then, Voldemort would be mortal again. That's why Dumbledore could not tell you."

"He could!" retorted Harry. "If he trusted me, he would have done it!"

"You're young. It would be very hard for you to carry on knowing that in the end, you'd have to die."

"But you said that it was likely that Harry would survive," intervened Hermione.

"But Dumbledore didn't want Harry to know that; he never told Snape that part."

"Why?" asked Hermione, now sickened. "Why would Dumbledore want that Harry didn't know he had a chance?"

"I think that Dumbledore knew that, once you were in possession of the truth," he explained, looking at Harry, "you would go to him, ready to die and save the world from him. And in doing so, in being selfless enough and willing to give your own life for the rest of the world, people would then be protected from him by your sacrifice as you were protected by your mother's. If you let him kill you to save the world, Harry, it is a sacrifice of love, even if you survive in the end. It's the fact that you're willing to give up your own life what does it, not the sacrifice itself. If you did it, it would mean the end of Voldemort, because he wouldn't be able to kill innocent people anymore. But the key point in this is that you _must_ believe that you're going to die, or it wouldn't be a sacrifice at all."

"I see," said Harry, still unconvinced.

"I suppose it wasn't an easy plan to make, but it was the only way Voldemort could be defeated for sure and you might still have a chance to live."

Harry didn't say anything, deep in thought, and neither did Hermione. It was still incredible to her that Harry was some sort of horcrux ... and, however, it made perfect sense, in a way.

"So it is like that, isn't it? I have to give myself to him and cross my fingers," He said, as though he was speaking to himself. "Well, it's not as if I've never thought of it. When the moment comes, I'll be ready. Part of me always knew this, I think; that, in the end, I'd probably end up dead."

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione. "During all this years, these months, you never said anything!"

Harry stared at her, like wanting to say something, but he seemed ashamed. He looked at Ron, as though he was seeking reassurance, or asking for permission.

"You can talk freely," said Ron, after watching him for a moment. Hermione had the impression that Ron had read what Harry wanted to talk about. "I don't care, you already know that."

Harry nodded and looked at Hermione.

"Did you think about the future, Hermione? When you were with Ron?" he asked her, serious. "Did you think about a job, about a house, maybe about ... children?"

Hermione opened her mouth, shocked by the question, which was too intimate for her liking, and looked at Ron and Harry in turns, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"Yes," she nodded finally, lowering her gaze.

"And while we were together at Grimmauld Place, or after the Ministry? Did you think about a future when you were with me, while we were on the run?"

Hermione, still looking at the floor, shook her head.

"Why?"

"It — it didn't seem appropriate, or important, or — or —"

"— or possible," Harry finished for her, and she nodded, raising her head to look at him.

"That's how I felt too. We never talked about that. We never discussed anything of that, actually," he said. "We never discussed what we had. We just clung to it, used it to keep fighting. We believed, for a short time, blinded and clouded for what we felt, that we could succeed, that we could do anything. But we never thought that we could win and survive, not really. At least, I never thought about surviving. Not after everything what happened in June. What was the point? What we had ... was enough for the time being, but not for the future. We both knew it. There was nothing to look forward to. We had something to fight for, but nothing to live for. All the reasons to live for were destroyed last June, after what happened, after you left Hogwarts. We needed you. _We need you_."

Hermione felt the tears run down her face.

"We never were meant to be, Ron," Harry continued, and Hermione noticed his eyes were also wet. "Never. If you hadn't left, we — we would have never been together at all, I'm sure, despite what we felt. I know that that's not enough for you; that it may sound like a lame excuse, but it's the truth nonetheless. I'm sorry, Ron. There aren't words big enough to say how sorry I am," he said, and brushed his eyes, sniffing. "But that's in the past. It's the future what matters now, so, when he comes here tomorrow, I'll — I'll face him, and I'll let him curse me, without trying to fight. Maybe that way, giving my life, I'll redeem myself. And maybe one day you will be able to forgive me, whether I survive ... or not."

"NO!" yelled Hermione. "No, you can't — you can't hand yourself over!"

"I will," said Harry, determined. "I've got to."

"No, you haven't," Ron replied, talking at last. "Fortunately for you, I'm here. I've told you, destroying the horcruxes is not a priority anymore. However, I'm sure you want to be rid of that evil piece of soul."

"Of course I want that."

"Well, then I have good news for you, because I can do that without killing you."

"You can?" asked Harry, surprised.

"I can. I didn't do it before because I needed you to spy on him, but it is not necessary anymore." He paused for a moment. "Were you a true horcrux, there would not be another way, even with my powers. But you aren't. I won't let you die for nothing. I don't care about your need for redemption or forgiveness, Harry. I've told you a million times that I don't care. Just forget it," he said.

"But I care," Harry muttered. "I do care. What I did —"

"Then you'll have to live with it," said Ron dispassionately. "If you're so eager for punishment, consider this your sentence: to want to redeem yourself, and to be unable to do so."

Harry dropped his gaze, and brushed his eyes again with his right sleeve.

"I'd do anything," he declared. "_Anything, _Ron."

"_I don't care_," Ron repeated, and he seemed tired and a bit furious now. "There's nothing you can do, so forget it and go on," he advised. "Now listen to me," he continued, and Harry raised her eyes to look at him. "You must understand that, if that piece of soul disappears, you won't be able to perceive him, or to look inside him, or to speak Parseltongue. Get it?"

Harry nodded, his face reflecting that he was still shocked. "Then — then, if we do this, I won't know whether he is coming or not, or when."

"No, you won't."

"Is that what you want? Should we wait?" Harry asked him.

"I think that you should get rid of that piece of him as soon as you can, Harry," said Hermione, serious, but, at the same time, relieved that Harry wouldn't have to face death.

"If you want to wait, we'll wait," answered Ron, ignoring Hermione. "But I don't need you to spy on him. If he comes, I'll know. So the choice is yours."

"Then I'm going to wait," decided Harry. He looked at Hermione, and, before she could protest, he added, "One more day won't make any harm, and I'll feel better if I know I can monitor him, so that he can't surprise us."

"As you want," said Ron.

"Harry, you're being irrational."

"No, I'm not."

"Ron! Do it now!" she demanded vehemently. "Destroy that damned thing!"

"It's not my choice," Ron answered, not moving at all.

Hermione looked at them both alternatively.

"You two are simply infuriating," she muttered, angry, and folded her arms very tightly.

Harry smiled at her, before facing Ron again, and Hermione knew for sure that he had remembered all those times when he and Ron had planned something and she had disapproved.

"Well, that's one secret," said Harry. "What's the other?"

"Which other?"

"The other one you discussed with Snape. That thing about a woman ..." Harry answered, his voice tailing away.

"That's up to him. I'm not going to tell you."

"He'll never tell me, and you said I had the right to know it."

"And I still think that way, but it is not my place to tell you."

Harry didn't insist, knowing that it would be useless. Instead, he took the snitch Dumbledore had given from the moleskin punch Hagrid had given him for his birthday and showed it to Ron.

"Can you open it? It says '_I open at the close_', but neither Hermione nor I have the slightest idea of what the _'close'_ is."

Ron took the snitch ant looked at it for a few moments, his eyes narrowing.

"It contains the ring," said Ron finally; "Gaunt's ring."

"The ring?" asked Harry, surprised. "Why?"

"The '_close' _is the moment you're about to die, I think," Ron commented. "Dumbledore gave it to you to help you pluck up the needed courage in that moment."

"How can a destroyed horcrux help Harry face death?" asked Hermione, sceptical.

"It is not a horcrux anymore. But the stone in it was a very strange and powerful object, and it still is. I assume you know nothing about the Deathly Hallows," he said, looking at them. Both shook their heads.

"I'll explain to you what they are once everything is over," said Ron. "For now, let's say that they are three extraordinary objects. The stone in the ring is one of them, and your Invisibility Cloak, Harry, is another."

"My — my _cloak_?" asked Harry, confused. "I don't understand. What has my cloak to do with that ring?"

"Your cloak is unique. No other invisibility cloak works for so long as yours have been doing. They usually get opaque with time, get holes and get ripped. But yours is perfect, as good as new, I daresay."

"I still don't understand."

"The third object," Ron continued, and stared at Hermione, "is a Wand. The Elder Wand, the most powerful wand ever made — at least, until I fashioned this one," he explained, looking at the wand in his fingers.

Hermione was awestruck, and her mind was reeling. The Elder Wand ...

"OH!" she exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "The _Tale of the Three Brothers_!"

"The what?" asked Harry, turning his head to look at Hermione. He seemed completely lost. "What are you talking about?"

"In the book Dumbledore left me there's this story, '_The Tale of the Three Brothers_', that speaks about three brothers who tricked Death and got three objects from it: a wand made of elder, very powerful; an Invisibility cloak and the Resurrection Stone ..." Her voice faded out and she stared at Ron, mouth-open. "Wait! Are you suggesting that these objects _actually_ exist? And that the Resurrection Stone is inside that snitch?" she asked incredulously, and then, without waiting for an answer, she shook her head in denial. "No, it is not possible. There can't be things like Resurrection Stones."

"What's the Resurrection Stone?" asked Harry, now irritated besides confused. "I don't understand anything."

"According to the book, the Resurrection Stone can bring back the dead. Well, not exactly," she explained. "They're still dead, but you can see them and talk to them and —" She shook her head again. "But that's rubbish. This story is just a morality tale, it can't be true ..."

"The Stone exists, and is inside the snitch," Ron contradicted her. "Dumbledore left it to Harry, I think, so he could bring back his parents ... and they could help him face death."

"That's not possible," replied Hermione stubbornly.

"As it is not possible to make body parts removed by Dark Magic grow back?" Ron said ironically. "As it is not possible to block the Killing Curse?"

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it, not knowing what to say.

"You are telling me," said then Harry, taking a deep breath, "that I can see my parents again if I want?"

"You can," said Ron. "But I don't advise you to do it. Dumbledore left you the stone with a purpose. That purpose is no longer necessary, so I suggest you to drop that stone where no one can find it again."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because bringing back the dead is not a good thing. You'll make them, and yourself, suffer."

"Yes," piped up Hermione. "In the tale, the brother who had the stone ended up killing himself out of hopelessness. Forget about it, Harry."

"I can't forget about it, Hermione."

"You must," said Ron. "But, in the end, it's your choice," he added, giving him back the snitch.

Harry took it and stared at it, as in awe. "How can I open it?"

"Tell it you are going to die," said Ron.

"Don't do it, Harry, please," begged Hermione, upset. "You can't really bring them back, and it is wrong."

Harry didn't answer. He had an odd expression on his face that she didn't like.

"I want to sleep," he blurted suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm tired, and tomorrow's going to be a long day. I want to rest."

"You're trying to get rid of us so you can use that thing!" Hermione accused him.

"I don't know what I am going to do, Hermione," replied Harry sharply. "Right now, I have a lot to think about, and after that I want to sleep."

Hermione got to her feet, annoyed with Harry, and saw Ron unsealing the door. "Good night then," she said, coldly, without looking at him, and stormed out of the room. Once out, she leant against the wall in the corridor and sighed, silently cursing Harry's stubbornness.

"He can handle it," said then Ron, who had also exited the room. "And if he abuses it, I'll take it from him."

Hermione looked at Ron. His voice was almost comforting. Almost.

"Does it work?" she asked, staring at him. "_Really _work?"

"Yes," Ron affirmed.

"That's why he left me that book. That was the reason I found that strange symbol drawn next to the title of _The Tale of the Three Brothers_."

"I suppose so."

"I'm going to bed," she said. "Too much information in a very short time."

"Okay," Ron said, and, without a simple 'goodnight' he walked towards the window from which he had watched the Death Eaters attempt to enter Hogwarts. It had happened that morning, and to Hermione it felt like an entire year had passed since then ... A year in which she had been through hell and come back to Earth. Thanks to Ron ...

Hermione sighed again, staring at Ron's retreating figure for a few moments, and went inside her room. She changed into her pyjamas and got under the blankets, staring at the shadowy ceiling and remembering all that had happened that day ...

They had gone to the Ministry and had expulsed the Death Eaters. She could see Ron, his serious and determined face, moving, his cloak gliding behind him, casting and blocking spells, beating and crushing anything that crossed his path ... She saw Bellatrix's crazy expression as she cursed her and the terrible pain the _Sectumsempra_ Curse had inflicted upon her body ... She remembered the horror and the hopelessness that had filled her when Harry had told her what had happened to her arm and leg, when Madam Pomfrey had informed her that, most surely, she would never have children of her own ...

And then, it came to her mind the incredible sensation of the White Light inside her, that feeling like snuggling against Ron again, like being loved by him again ...

Ron ...

She had been his first love; she had given him his first kiss. The first time he had told anyone 'I love you' it had been to her ...

And what had she given him in return? Her first kiss had been with Viktor, and her first time had been with Harry. Yes, she had been the first person she had loved, but he had left believing it was all a lie ... She had taken so much from Ron that June that it was no surprise he had now nothing to give. Ron had loved her so much, and she had turned that love into excruciating pain. If there was still love inside him, it surely was buried very deeply, where it could never hurt him again.

And though she knew that she didn't deserve it, that she had no right to want it, she couldn't help craving it. She desired, more than anything else, that Ron could give her that love she had thrown to the waste bin; that she could have what she had lost seven months ago, in that odd month of June.

* * *

><p><em>Well, this is it. Just another little note before some of you try to rip my head off. No, Hermione NEVER told Harry 'I love you'. Hermione hasn't told those words in a romantic way to anybody! Why? You'll see. I don't want what happened with the 'First Time' thing happening again! She is simply stating that she was the first — and only —that heard those words from him!<em>

_In case you hadn't noticed, we've reached the night of the second day. Time to go down the memory lane once more. Time to discover what happened in that odd month of June._

_See you next Thursday!_


	17. June, 1997

You know I'm not a fan of posting long author notes, but I have to make an exception here.

First of all, I want to comment something **SugarFree25** pointed out to me, and it's the fact that I get really wonderful and meaningful reviews. Oh, they're not all positive, of course — every person is a world, after all — but they are always thoughtful and deep, not just the classic 'update soon!' or 'this sucks!'. I don't mind getting those, of course, but I love the meaningful reviews, even if they're not positive or if I don't agree with them, because it shows that people cares and are intrigued by the story. Besides, there's always so much private messaging that I almost have no life the days I publish. No, don't stop writing me, I love it! So thanks to all of you. I usually reply to all my reviewers — the non-anonymous, of course — but if sometimes I forget someone, sorry!

Well, I'm saying this because, for the first time, I received I review that irritated me. Why? Because the author accused me of writing a Harmonian/Ron-bashing story. I could accept — though never understand — that you believe this is a harmonian story, even when Hermione keeps thinking and remembering how wonderful her time with Ron was and how miserable she was with Harry. But Ron bashing! Ron is not a loser who is whining and hiding, he fought for himself and became the most powerful wizard ever. _Ron bashing_! Seriously?

I know that the fact that George snaps at Hermione and then apologised caused some uproar. Well, there are reasons for that, of course, but it's still early for deep explanations, so I won't explain here, though I promise I'll do. I don't expect everyone to agree with me. Again, every person is a world.

And finally, the 'Harry/Hermione are blaming Ron' thing. This, I have to admit, surprised me, because I don't believe you can blame anyone for a relationship. I mean, is Ginny's fault that Ron dated Lavender? Of course not. She could have prevented it? Yes, if she hadn't said anything about Krum. But that doesn't make it Ginny's fault. So yes, if Ron had not left, Hermione and Harry would have never — (I won't say more here), but that doesn't mean it's Ron's fault. What Harry and Hermione are trying to say is entirely different, but, again it's still not the time to explain, because there's a lot you don't know.

Well, sorry for this. I promised myself I'd never do this, but I couldn't help it. Now, back to the chapter. This is the longest chapter of the story, and the most tough to write. It took me more than an entire month out of the seven I spent writing this, to complete it. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried, and it's not easy to read. However, I think I did a wonderful job, because it's sad and heart-breaking, and I love these things (a fact which is a bit odd, because I'm a very happy and optimistic person).

Many of you hope you'll find out what happened to Ron here, but you won't. This is still from Hermione's POV. In fact, I'm sure you'll get more questions than answers.

Now, without more rambling, let's accompany Hermione down the memory lane once more, but this time to the most horrible month of her life.

And advice: if you want to enhance the effect, songs like 'Courtyard Apocalypse', 'Severus and Lily' and 'Lily's theme' go wonderful with this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>June, 1997<strong>

_Hermione put down the book she was holding and rubbed her weary eyes. She was in the library, finishing the complex and unfairly long essay on the Suffocating Curse that Snape had given them that morning, and was really tired. It was the last days of May and it was hot outside the castle, but in the library the air was pleasantly fresh. Besides, it was a lot quieter there than in the common room._

_She wrote the last words, checked it and nodded in satisfaction. Then, she looked at her watch and saw that it was almost nine o'clock. Harry and Ron would be back soon from their Quidditch practice, so she took all her things and headed for the common room. Once there, she dropped her school bag on the floor and, and with a sigh, dropped onto the armchair closest to the window. The common room was almost empty, except for two second years and a group of fifth years studying for their OWLs. Some of them, Hermione noticed with a small smile, seemed about to go mad with the stress. She couldn't blame them, for she remembered pretty well how it had been for her last year._

_She heard the Portrait open and then close, and Harry came into view. He looked a bit depressed, because, due to the detention Snape had put him on two days before, he wasn't allowed to play in the last match of the season. But Hermione almost didn't pay any attention to that fact, because she was looking at his body, at his now broader shoulders, at the muscles in his arms, at his strong chest. And the determined, confident way in which he was moving towards her left her with her mouth open, completely dazzled. He stopped in front of her and said something, but Hermione merely saw the way his mouth was moving, the way his sweaty hair was hanging over his forehead —_

"_Hermione!"_

"_Er — what?" she asked, getting out of her reverie._

"_I was telling you that I'm going to have a shower. Ron went to the prefects bathroom, he said he would be here soon."_

"_Ah — Ron ... Yes, okay, Harry," she nodded._

_Harry was looking at her with an odd expression. "Are you all right?"_

"_Yes, yes, I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"_

"_Well, I was talking to you and you were there, with your mouth hung open, as if you were in some sort of dream."_

"_It was nothing, just thinking about something," she said, suddenly nervous. "Go and have a shower, I'll wait for you here."_

_Harry nodded and, with a last glance, he began to climb the stairs and vanished, but not before her eyes had drifted over his bum._

What the hell is wrong with me?_ she thought, utterly confused. _I was ogling Harry! Harry, for heaven's sake!_ She took a deep breath. _ Okay. It was a bad moment, _she told herself. _You did study too much, that's what happened. Relax a bit and everything will be back to normal. Harry is like your brother, and Ron is your boyfriend. He's the one you ogle, no one else!

_That was an odd explanation, of course, because the thought that she had been studying too much had never crossed her head before. But there could not be another reason, because he had never seen Harry that way. Of course, she was well aware that Harry was an attractive boy, but she had always seen that with, well, 'clinical eyes'; she had never stared at him like a hormonal teenager. That look was reserved for Ron only._

_However, she had to admit that Harry looked _hot _like that, sweaty and dishevelled and a bit distressed ..._

_She opened her eyes wide in horror._

For Merlin's beard! Have I just thought that Harry looked _hot_? No, no, no! That can't be! That — that's just _ridiculous_! Ron is the one I find attractive and enticing after a Quidditch practice! I'd never tell him, of course, because I don't want to encourage him in dressing like a slob, but — _She shook her head. _This has been a moment of madness. That's all. Forget it. It never happened.

_Ten minutes later, the portrait opened again and this time Ron walked into the common room. He spotted her and grinned, with that sweet smile he had only for her. He was washed and clean, his hair still damp, and she smiled back at him._

_Yes, this was the man she loved, the one that was absolutely gorgeous to her. What had happened minutes before had been a simple trick of her mind. She would have to rest better that night, sleep a few more hours._

_Ron bent over her, put his arms one in each side of her head and kissed her for a minute before asking, "How was your evening?"_

"_Absolutely normal, but it's got ten times better just now," she answered and smiled happily. "I completed Snape's essay, so it was productive. What about yours? How was practice?"_

_Ron's smile vanished. "Well, it was okay. The team is working well, but the fact that Harry won't be allowed to play ..." he shook his head and sat next to her. "Ginny's been great, though."_

"_She beat Cho last year," Hermione reminded him, patting him on his left thigh reassuringly. "I'm sure she will do all right. And, even if she doesn't, we'll still have the better keeper, won't we?" she added, beaming at him. He smiled back, grateful and appreciative. She knew exactly how to reassure him, how to make him feel more confident, and he had improved a lot in several aspects of his life since they had got together. In return, he was able to make her loosen up a bit, enjoy life more and, above all, be happier. They complemented each other almost perfectly._

_Of course, not everything was always smooth. Their bickering had not stopped (though now it had a much more evident flirtatious component than before) and they had had a few important rows. After the worst of them, they had not spoken for three days, until Harry, almost mad, had threatened with locking them in a broom cupboard. Of course, they had made up after a long talk, followed by an hour inside a deserted classroom where they both had showed the other everything they had learnt in the art of snogging. Hermione's body still tingled and her face flushed every time that memory came to her mind._

_They were, plainly and simply, happier than ever._

"_So you finished the essay," he commented, moving closer to her._

"_I did."_

"_Will you help me with mine? Correcting me, I mean," he added quickly, smiling. "I know perfectly well you won't let me copy."_

"_If you work as hard as you do lately, I'll help you, of course," she agreed._

_Ron beamed at her. "You're the best girlfriend in the world, did you know?"_

_Hermione's smile widened. "Well, as I am the _only_ girlfriend you've got, you cannot very well compare, can't you?"_

"_I just know," he said, more seriously. She looked at him, her eyes fixed on his. "You're great, Hermione. When I'm with you, I'm capable of anything. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."_

_She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, but trying to restrain herself for the sake of the other students in the common room, because what she really wanted was to throw him back against the couch and snog the living daylights out of him._

_She was moving away from him when Harry came back. Ron sighed happily. "Well, we should do some work," he said, standing up. "I'll fetch my things and we can do that bloody essay for Snape, okay?" he told Harry. Harry grunted._

_Ron went up to his room and Hermione glanced at Harry. Her body tingled again._

No, not again! _She scolded herself. _Don't look at him. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal. Think of Ron: Ron's eyes, Ron's mouth, Ron's kisses ... How would it feel kissing Harry?

_She closed her eyes hard, trying to banish that awful thought from her mind. Something was horribly wrong with her._

"_Are you okay, Hermione?" asked Harry, staring at her with concern. "You look a bit flushed."_

"_I'm fine, thanks," she answered, trying not to look at him. "I think I'm a bit tired, that's all."_

"_You work too hard," he told her._

"_You know? I think you're right," she said, visibly surprising him. "I'll go to bed soon, and tomorrow I'll be as good as new."_

_She got to her feet in an instant, and seized her bag. Harry was looking at her, perplexed, but she avoided his gaze. Ron appeared at the bottom of the stairs with his things, saw her and frowned._

"_What are you doing?"_

"_I'm tired, Ron. I think I'm going to bed._

_Ron's face was now showing utter bewilderment. "To bed? But you said you were going to help us with Snape's essay!"_

"_Well, work on it and I'll correct them tomorrow, okay?" _

_Ron glanced at Harry, who shrugged._

"_Okay," accepted Ron unhappily. "Goodnight, then," he added, kissing her softly._

"_Goodnight, Ron," she answered, beginning to move. "To you too, Harry," she added, without looking at her friend, and hurried to the staircase._

Everything will be all right tomorrow_, she thought. _Everything will be all right.

o o o

_Nothing was all right._

_Hermione stared at Demelza Robbins' figure, zooming through the air on her broom, the Quaffle under her arm, dodging the Ravenclaw chasers and scoring for Gryffindor. Around her, a thunderous uproar celebrated the goal. The score was two hundred and ten for Gryffindor to a hundred and forty for Ravenclaw. Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin and Hufflepuff already, so they just needed to win and the cup would be theirs._

_Hermione was yelling like the rest of their housemates, especially at Ron, who had made some amazing saves. However, she wasn't feeling well, not completely, because although she was physically in the Quidditch pitch, one part of her mind was in the castle._

_With Harry._

_Of course, there was nothing odd in the fact that she was worried about her friend, knowing that, while everyone was here, while his team was playing, he has to be under detention with Snape. But the problem was that worry was not all she was feeling. She missed his presence, the way he flied, his look of concentration as he sought the tiny golden ball ..._

_She looked at Ron, who had miraculously blocked a shot from Devinson. As the public erupted in cries of '_Weasley is our King_', he passed the Quaffle to Katie Bell and his eyes found hers. She smiled at him and, instantly, she felt that wonderful sensation she always felt whenever their gazes locked. But, this time, she also felt a pang of guilt building inside her chest._

_She had been almost normal the day before. She had woken up, well rested, and had joined Ron and Harry for breakfast. Ron had been very attentive towards her, asking her if she was all right and making sure that she ate enough. He had been so sweet that she had almost felt normal._

_Almost._

_Because whenever her eyes caught sight of Harry, she felt something inside her. Something she didn't want, something she didn't understand. Therefore, she had tried to avoid Harry the entire day, but trying not to be too obvious. And when she and Ron had gone for a walk and a 'nerves-soothing' snog, as Ron called them, she had kept at it for much longer than usually. She felt good in Ron's arms. No, she felt wonderful, like in heaven, when she was kissing him. She felt completely normal there, enthralled by him, as she usually was when he kissed and hugged her. That was how things should be. Ron, of course, hadn't minded it the slightest, and had gone to bed with a radiant grin on his face._

_But today, things had been wrong since the beginning. Seeing Harry's defeated expression as he was leaving for his detention while the rest of the school was heading for the Quidditch pitch had been horrible, and she had realised she wished to hug him tightly, wished to tell him that everything was going to be okay, because he had trained a very good team ..._

_She tried to focus on the match before her. In that moment, Katie Bell gave a dangerous movement on her broom and threw the Quaffle, tricking the keeper, and she scored. But, almost instantly, the Ravenclaw chasers retaliated and, this time, Ron couldn't save the goal._

_Aggravated by this, Gryffindor began to play more intensely, and, in four minutes, Katie and Dean scored again, setting the score at two hundred and forty to a hundred and fifty. There was a difference of ninety. Ginny would have to catch the snitch ..._

_And then, dodging Cho with a complicated turn, Ginny flew at maximum speed, her arm outstretched, and, a second later, the Stadium exploded with the yells and cries of victory coming from the Gryffindor supporters. And Ginny was flying around, her arm high, showing the golden ball, and the rest of the team were moving towards her; and hugging and crying and laughing, they descended to the ground, arm in arm. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup for the second consecutive year._

_Hermione beamed, and ran along Neville and Seamus, thinking about how proud Harry would be, how relieved he would feel once he knew what had happened —_

_Ron saw her, and breaking free from the rest of the team, launched himself at her, lifted her off her feet and, snogging her passionately, swirled her around. She laughed happily, her worries forgotten for a moment, because it was impossible for her to feel anything bad when Ron was embracing her, kissing her, and laughing like that, his blue eyes shining with joy._

"_You played brilliantly, Ron! All of you did! I'm so proud of you!" she told him, grabbing his face and kissing him again._

"_I think that yesterday's 'nerves-soothing' snog was far better than a good mouthful of Felix Felicis," he joked, and she laughed again, blushing._

"_I'm glad I helped," she said, as Ron put her on her feet again._

_Ron took her hand and, with the rest of the team and surrounded by cheerful and yelling Gryffindors, they headed for the castle and Gryffindor Tower, where a party would take place to celebrate the victory._

_Soon after they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, the common room was bursting with laughing and joyful people, and the tables were full of butterbeer bottles and all sorts of sweets and food._

_Hermione was sitting beside Ron, who seemed to have the intention of giving her a chaste kiss on the mouth every moment no one was congratulating him. Not that she minded, of course. She felt so proud of Ron and so eager to banish every odd feeling off her that wouldn't have minded if Ron snogged her fully in the couch, right before the entire house's eyes._

_Then, the portrait opened, and a hesitant and gloomy-looking Harry appeared on the doorstep. He stood there for a moment, his eyes roaming over the common Ron until they were fixed on Ron and her. Ron's grin widened, and Harry's face changed completely._

_An instant later, Ginny was running at him and launched herself onto his neck, hugging him tightly. "We won!" she shouted, laughing and beaming at him. "We won, Harry!"_

_Harry grinned at her too, and then Hermione felt it: a sudden, irrational desire to take her wand out and force Ginny away from Harry._

_The warmth she had been feeling, the joy of seeing Ron so happy and delighted vanished instantly, replaced by a sudden fear. Then, Harry tore his eyes away from Ginny and fixed them on hers. His smile faltered a little. Hermione felt her heart jump, unable to break eye contact with him, and the fear that was starting to fill her turned into panic._

_No, it could not be true. She could not fancy Harry Potter._

_But it seemed that she did._

o o o

_Never in her life had Hermione wanted so desperately the arrival of the end of term. It was mid-June, and they were all immersed in their exams. Hermione had devoted herself to her studies since the day after the Quidditch match. Studying usually kept her mind occupied and, besides, was the perfect excuse to avoid Harry, because now she could not bear standing next to him for too long. And when she could not avoid it, she was, more often than not, quiet and serious. Ron found this sudden change in her demeanour disturbing, but every time he asked if something was wrong, she smiled at him and said that it was only the pressure of exams. Harry, for his part, was also much quieter than before, and sometimes, when her gaze met his, he looked away almost instantly, which Hermione found very odd._

_She had hoped that avoiding Harry would end this irrational, illogical and unwanted attraction, but it wasn't working. In fact, every time she was with him, she couldn't stop herself from eyeing him discretely, fascinated by little things about him that she had never noticed before, like the way he frowned in concentration or the way he touched his right ear absentmindedly while he was reading._

_Things were getting out of control, and that was the reason she wanted the school term to end, so she could go home for a few weeks, and then spend time with Ron in his house, just the two of them, hoping that that would bring normality back to her life. The strangest thing of it all was that, despite these new feelings towards Harry, she still loved Ron; she still liked him and fancied him. She still loved to spend time with him, and he was still able to take her breath away every time he snogged her. He was able to make her laugh, and to make her feel safe and loved. But those feelings, that once had occupied her heart entirely, were now making way to the new ones. She felt as though she was torn, as though there were two people inside her. And day by day, she was thinking more about Harry, wanting him more, though that didn't mean that she spent less time thinking about Ron, and she was slowly going mad. She could not tell Ron this, she was not brave enough, and guilt was now something she carried with her all the time. She wished, with all her heart, that, once the year had ended, everything would be back to normal ..._

_Sighing, she gathered all her books and notes, which were splayed over the table, and headed for the Great Hall. She had spent the afternoon in the library, alone and away from the boys, trying to bring some peace to her mind. It hadn't worked very well._

_She walked in the Great Hall and spotted Ron and Harry already sitting together at Gryffindor Table. Sighing, she kept walking and sat across from them. Ron smiled at her. Harry attempted to do so, but he only managed to form a strange grimace and fixed his eyes on his plate almost immediately._

_Ron began to chat about how their day had gone, apparently oblivious to the odd demeanour of his two best friends. Hermione tried to put on a face, but, inwards, her mind was reeling. Going over and over about his feelings towards Ron, towards Harry, and how he seemed to be avoiding her as much as she was trying to avoid him._

_After dinner, the three of them walked up to the seventh floor and the Fat Lady portrait. Ron said the password and he climbed into the common room. Hermione followed him, but she was so lost in her thoughts that she tripped. Instinctively, Harry stretched his arm and seized her, preventing her from falling. Hermione's head turned and her eyes locked with his. For a moment, the world seemed to freeze, the time seemed to slow down. She felt sudden warmth spread throughout her body from the point Harry was touching her._

_A mere second later, although to Hermione it felt like hours, Harry released her and tore his eyes away. She did the same._

"_Er — thanks, Harry."_

"_You're welcome," he said, without looking at her._

"_Are you okay?" asked Ron, who had turned round and was staring at them, confused._

"_Yes, I just tripped," Hermione told him, moving again. "Er — I think I'll go to my room now. I want to revise some points for tomorrow's exam before getting into bed."_

"_Oh," said Ron, disappointment evident in his voice. "Well, see you tomorrow then. Don't stay awake 'til late, okay?"_

_She nodded and, with a pang of guilt, kissed him briefly. After doing it, she threw a glance at Harry and saw him looking away, as if he didn't want to see them kissing._

_With her body still tingling and her mind trying to decipher Harry's behaviour, she ran up to her room and climbed on her bed, closing the curtains around her. She lay down on the bed and sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. Things were getting more and more out of control every day, and she didn't know what to do. Should she tell Ron? She knew that she should, and, at the same time, she knew it wasn't a good idea. This attraction towards Harry was ridiculous and unwanted. Was illogical. It had to go away. She had always felt a connection towards Harry, yes, because they had both been raised in the Muggle world and had no siblings, so she had started, very soon, to see him as the brother she had never had. And she had always thought — or, more precisely, knew — that he felt the same way towards her. How had that changed? How could she be attracted to the boy that was almost her brother? It was insane!_

'Almost' is the right word here, _a voice told her. _He is not really your brother, and you know it.

It's almost the same!_ She yelled inwardly._

But it is not the same.

_She forced her mind to push back those problems, so she could focus on revising. Next day they had their last exam, Charms, and then they would be free until the end of term. Therefore, she began to study and practise wand movements for two hours, until she decided to call it a night and go to sleep._

_That night she had the first dream._

_In it, she was again about to walk into the common room, with the difference that it was deserted and Ron was not there. And this time, when she tripped, Harry not only grabbed her to steady her, but he pulled her against him, his green eyes staring intensely at hers for a few incredible charged moments before finally speaking._

"_I want you, Hermione."_

_And before she could say or do anything, he was kissing her, sweetly, passionately, intensely. She felt her body grow hot and tingle, and put her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his, letting herself go, losing herself into his warm, strong embrace ..._

"_I want you too, Harry. So much," she whispered, panting heavily, between moments of frantic kissing._

"_Then kiss me, Hermione. Kiss me and be with me. Be with me ..."_

_She woke up, sweating and breathing deeply, and, almost unconsciously, she caressed her lips softly, the memory of Harry's moving against her own still fresh in her memory. Just a moment later, overwhelming guilt overcame her._

_She began to sob quietly, curling underneath her blankets. "What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself. "What am I going to do? I don't want this, I don't _want to want_ Harry. I want Ron. Please, make this go away ..."_

_It was too early to get up, but knowing that going back to sleep was not possible, she tried to focus on her impending exam. But the image of Harry's eyes, fixed on hers before kissing her, was burnt into her mind._

_She got up and went to the Great Hall as soon as she knew it would be ready for breakfast, hoping that she could avoid staying at the table with both Ron and Harry at the same time. The tables were empty when she arrived, and just a dozen students were there when she left ten minutes later, after a brief meal._

_When Ron and Harry came down from their dormitory she was already rereading her notes, and told them that she had woken up early and had already had breakfast._

"_You didn't spend the entire night studying, did you?" Ron scolded her, staring at her weary face. "You look as though you hadn't had much sleep."_

"_Today we have the last exam," Hermione replied, looking at her notes so to hide her face, which she knew had turned pink. "You know how I get during exams, but don't worry; I'll be able to rest and relax after it's done."_

_Ron grunted, as if saying 'you'd better do', and then he and Harry left the common room._

_Hermione thanked the heavens for the last exam being Charms. It had always been one of the easiest subjects for her, so, even with the state her mind was in, she knew, once she had finished, that she had done it perfectly. She tried not to think what might have happened had the exam been Arithmancy, for example._

_A few minutes later, Ron came out of the classroom. He caught sight of her and headed for where she was standing, resting against the wall. He was smiling so radiantly at her that she felt her insides melt, and among the waves of warmth and love that coursed through her body, a new pang of guilt rushed through her._

"_Let's take a walk outside, Hermione," he told her vehemently before she had time to speak. She furrowed her brow in confusion, but, when he seized her hand and moved, she walked alongside him._

"_I'm not going to ask how you did," said Ron, still grinning, "because I already know you did bloody brilliantly, as always." He paused, and she could not help beaming at him. How could he be so incredibly sweet and caring when she was having such an internal battle over her feelings for Harry and him? "But the thing is, Hermione, that I did too," he continued, as they reached the bottom of the marble staircase and crossed the Entrance Hall, heading for the front doors and the sunlit grounds of the school._

_Hermione looked at Ron, a bit confused. "You did too? What did you do?"_

"_The exam!" he almost shouted. "The exam, Hermione. I'm pretty sure I did bloody brilliantly too! Well, I know I won't get a hundred and twelve percent, like you did once, but I can swear it was the better Charms exam I've done in the six years I've spent here."_

"_I'm so happy for you, Ron," she told him, beaming proudly at him. "I've always known you could do it pretty well if you really tried."_

_Ron led them to the beech tree near the lake and once under it, he turned to her and put his hands around her._

"_I couldn't have done it without you," he said, now staring at her intensely, his face more serious._

"_Nonsense," she replied, shaking her head. "_You _did it, Ron."_

"_But I wouldn't have done it without your help. Every time I couldn't remember the answer to some question, or the correct wand movement, I thought about you, about you showing me. And it worked. And not just for Charms, I think I've done the best exams ever since I started school. And I owe you for that, Hermione. For everything. You've made me believe in myself like I had never done before." His right hand went to her left cheek, and he caressed it tenderly and lovingly. His grin faded completely and his eyes darkened as he bent a bit over her. "I love you, Hermione."_

_Hermione's mouth opened and she sighed, surprised, and felt incredible warmth spreading throughout her body. Of course, she knew — or at least, suspected — that he loved her. She just had to watch him looking at her to realise that, but, without knowing really why, she didn't expect him to tell her so._

_She knew she loved him, of course. She had realised she was in love with him during the train ride home before Christmas. And she wanted to say it back, she really did. Her mind and her heart were screaming it, telling her to mouth the words, but she couldn't, because the image of her telling Harry 'I want you too, Harry. So much,' in her dream was still vividly impressed in her head. She knew that if she told him those three words it wouldn't be a lie ... and, at the same time, it would be. She felt tears sting in her eyes, and tried to fight them._

_She saw Ron's serious face turn to one of confusion and concern. She had to say or to do something —_

_So she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, full and hard, slipping her tongue in his warm mouth, trying to express with her kiss what she was unable to say, but also asking silently for forgiveness; forgiveness for thinking about Harry when he was telling her that he loved her, forgiveness for not being fully his like he was fully hers, like she wanted to be ..._

_Ron embraced her more tightly, and responded passionately, snogging her as he had never done before. Not because of the passion. They had kissed as passionately before, or even more, but she had never felt him put so much of him into a kiss. He was pouring into it everything he had told her, and she felt the tears streaming down her face._

"_Hermione?" he asked, concerned, when they moved away, a bit later, both flushed and almost breathless. "What's wrong?"_

_She wiped her tears away and shook her head. "It's nothing, Ron. It's just that — that you — you are so sweet, so wonderful. You've been amazing, you know? These months with you have been the best ones of my life."_

_It was the truth, but not all of it. But she was too coward to tell him everything; too coward to tell him that she didn't know what was going to happen to them, to their relationship; too coward to tell him that, although she loved him, she was falling more and more in love with Harry day by day; too coward to tell him that she was torn, that she felt as if two parts of her were fighting ... and the part that loved Harry was getting stronger._

_But he didn't know anything, and smiled at her. "Mine too," he said, and kissed her again._

_They spent the rest of the day together, and she did her best to be sure they had a good time. She laughed with Ron, and chatted with him, and kissed him, and truly enjoyed the day, and loved Ron for it. But one part of her was completely detached from her body, and, no matter how hard she tried, the face of Harry Potter never left her mind completely._

_And that night, though she felt asleep thinking about Ron, about how wonderful it was to be with him and to snuggle into his embrace, she dreamt about Harry again, and when, in the dream, he kissed her, lifting her off her feet, she woke up, sweaty and flustered and ... excited._

_She started to cry and couldn't go back to sleep._

o o o

_The days went by, and, every night, she dreamt about Harry. Each dream was different, but in every one, Harry kissed her, hugged her, told her that he wanted her, that he loved her ... And in a few of them, it was her who initiated the kiss, and told him that she wanted him ..._

_During the day, she tried to avoid him, sometimes in the library, under the pretence of investigating about horcruxes, though she knew very well that there was nothing about them there. Staying away from Harry was getting more and more difficult, because she longed to see him, she longed to touch him and to feel his body. She was slowly going crazy, and could not do anything to prevent it. She felt as if she was a pot full of boiling water that would explode at any moment._

_She had tried to spend more time with Ron, because when she did so was the only times she felt almost normal, despite the guilt. But was it fair to Ron? Was it fair at all? This had been going on for weeks. She felt as if she were cheating on him. Every morning, when she woke up, still flustered by the dreams, she thought about it, she repeated the same questions. Should she tell Ron? And, almost every time, she played the hypothetic conversation in her mind:_

"Ron, I have to talk to you."

"Okay. Tell me, what's the matter? You seem serious.

"Please, Ron, don't hate me. I —"

"Hermione, I could never hate you. You know I love you. What's the matter? You're starting to worry me."

"Ron ... I — I think I'm in love with Harry."

"Ha ha ha. Really, Hermione, I told you once you have the worst timing when it comes to jokes, but you have the worst taste in them as well!"

"It's — it's not a joke, Ron. I wish it was, but — but it isn't."

And then Ron's laugh died away, his face became serious, his expression became cold, the anger started to become visible in his eyes ...

"Tell me you're making fun of me, Hermione, even if there's nothing remotely funny in this."

"I'm not. I'm not, Ron, and I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't want this, I —"

"Get away from me."

"Ron, I —"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

_She was unable to continue thinking about it beyond this point. And, to make things worse, she could not speak with anybody. Usually, she would talk to Ginny, but how could she tell her this? How could she tell her that, though she loved Ron deeply, she was now in love with Harry as well, with Harry, the boy Ginny had always fancied, the boy towards whom, Hermione had always assured her, she felt nothing more than sisterly love?_

_So she had kept those feelings bottled inside her. Not being able to tell Ron, the days had passed, and now she had decided to wait, because the end of term was just a few days away. And then she would go home, and she could talk to her mother, and invite Ron to spend a few days in her house with her, just the two of them, and things would go back to normality, or so she hoped._

_But if they didn't ... then she would have to do the thing she never thought she would have to do, and break up with Ron. Just thinking about it made her heart bleed._

_Of course, Ron had noticed that something strange was going on with her. But, every time he had asked, she had told him she just had 'a bad feeling'. Well, it wasn't really a lie, was it?_

_Why was this happening? Why had this happened, when she was so happy? Was it fair that this unwanted and overwhelming love had sprung when Ron and she were so happy with each other? No, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. She wanted Ron. Ron made her so happy. Ron was perfect for her, their differences just made everything better. She didn't want to fancy Harry! She hated this new side of her, this attraction, this madness ..._

_One day, just four days away from the end of the month and, therefore, the term, she walked into the common room, after having spent the afternoon in the library, and found Ron and Harry sitting in one of the table. Ron was sealing a letter. There were no one else there, and Hermione realised everyone must be in the Great Hall._

"_Ah, you're back!" he said upon seeing her. "Seriously, you're starting to worry me, Hermione. If the end of term wasn't so close, I'd make you go and see Madam Pomfrey."_

_How could he be so sweet, when the part in her that loved him was almost crushed by that other that loved Harry above all things?_

"_I'm fine, Ron. What are you doing?"_

"_I just remembered something I wanted to tell Fred and George before going home. I'm going to send it right now, before dinner."_

"_Go, then," said Hermione. "We'll wait for you."_

"_No, it's not necessary. Go ahead, and I'll join you in the Great Hall," he suggested._

_Hermione looked at Harry, and felt her body tingle. She desired to do that, to go with him, but she _didn't want_ to. She thought about saying 'no'. But she had no excuse, not really, and the truth was that she missed Harry. It was just a brief walk to the Great Hall, it couldn't make any harm, she thought. So she chose to do as Ron had told her._

"_All right then," she accepted. "I have to go up to the dormitory, but I'll be back in a second, Harry._

"_Okay," he said, nodding._

"_See you later, then," Ron said, and sprinted off, disappearing through the portrait hole._

_Hermione went to her room, put the parchment, ink and quills she was carrying in her trunk, and went back down to the common room. Harry was already near the portrait hole._

_They went out of the common room and began to make their way through the deserted corridors in an uncomfortable silence._

"_How — how have you been, Harry?" she asked, without looking at him. "We hadn't really talked in a while."_

"_No, we haven't. I'm fine, Hermione, thanks."_

_She couldn't help and looked at him. He seemed anything but fine._

"_Dumbledore has been absent for a while," he commented, after a few more moments of silence, while they walked along a deserted corridor._

"_Yes, I've noticed," she nodded. "He hadn't told you anything more about the horcruxes, or about how his investigations are going?" she asked._

_He shook his head. "No, and I'm getting a little desperate. Besides, Malfoy keeps going to the Room of Requirement. The term is ending and I can't help thinking that something —"_

"_Oh, Harry," she said, stopping and looking at him, trying to resist the impulse to hug him tightly and get lost in his arms. "Please, forget about Malfoy. And I am sure Dumbledore will be back soon, at least, for the feast. You can talk to him then."_

"_Yeah, I suppose you're right," he nodded, in a low voice. She approached him._

"_What's wrong, Harry? Tell me. You don't talk to me as much as you used to."_

_Harry stared at her, and she felt her knees go weak. God, how badly she wanted to kiss him and how wrong that was!_

"_It's — a lot of things," he said, avoiding her gaze. "You know, you read the _Prophet_, you're aware of how bad things are ... I want to destroy those damned horcruxes and finish this, once and for all," he told her vehemently, and she noticed he was shaking._

"_Harry ..." she said, and, instinctively, without really thinking, she took his hand in hers. She felt the spark instantly, and, by the way his eyes widened, she knew he had felt it, too. He looked at their intertwined hands, and then his eyes found hers. She lost the ability to breath, she felt dizzy, and her mind became a bit foggy._

"_Hermione ..." he said, huskily, his hand trembling._

"_Harry ..."_

_And in that instant those feelings, that lust she had kept bottled inside her, exploded, and, without really knowing how, they were kissing, and she had her arms around his neck, trying to get him closer to her. He put his hands on her back and on her head, caressing her brown curls, both of them with their eyes closed. Time lost its significance, and they kissed totally oblivious of what was around them, until, somehow, amidst the madness, amidst the passion, a weak streak of reason struck her, and she realised what she was doing. She opened her eyes suddenly, and saw him doing the same, saw the same realisation struck him, saw the same horror she was feeling shining in his eyes, and they had started to move away from each other when they heard a strangled squeak._

_Simultaneously, Harry and she turned their heads to see who had made the sound, and then she froze, a cold feeling quickly banishing the warmth Harry's kiss had caused in her. And the horror of what she had done turned into panic._

_It was Ron._

_He was twenty feet away from them, frozen on the spot. His face was a mixture of emotions: incredulity, rage, confusion ... and, above them all, pain; excruciating pain._

"_Ron," she managed to mutter, realising, horrified, what she had done. What they had done. "Ron, this —"_

"_No," he said, his voice weak and trembling. "No, no, no," he repeated, shaking his head in denial. "No, it can't be. No, please ..."_

"_Ron," said then Harry. "Ron, I —"_

"_DON'T TELL ME YOU ARE SORRY!" Ron yelled. His face was now red, his eyes shining with tears. Rage was winning the battle between his emotions. "BECAUSE CERTAINLY, YOU DIDN'T SEEM TO BE SORRY A MINUTE AGO, WHEN YOU WERE SNOGGING THE BRAINS OUT OF MY GIRLFRIEND! MY GIRLFRIEND, HARRY! HOW COULD YOU — how?" he asked, his voice fading, tears now running freely down his cheeks._

"_Oh, Ron ..." Hermione whimpered, and she noticed she was also crying. She gave a hesitant step towards him._

"_NO!" he yelled, stepping back. "NO, DON'T TOUCH ME, HERMIONE! Don't get near me." He was breaking down, his body shaking with the force of his sobs, and Hermione felt more miserable than in her entire life, knowing she had done this to him. "Why, Hermione?" he asked, defeated and hopeless. "Why, after everything you told me, are you here, kissing Harry? HARRY, Hermione, the bloke you swore to me you didn't fancy!"_

_Hermione didn't know what to say. Her mind was, for the first time in her life, completely blank._

"_Was everything a lie?" he continued, wiping his tears. "Were you only waiting for your chance with him? Was I just a — a temporary distraction?"_

"_No, Ron!" she yelled desperately. "No, no! How can you think —?"_

"_Yeah, I was," he retorted, hurt. The pain was evident in his voice, mixed with anger. "That's why you didn't tell me you loved me when I said it to you, wasn't it?" His eyes opened even more, as if he had realised something. "That's the true reason you wanted to wait, isn't it? It's not that we were at Hogwarts, or could get caught."_

"_NO, RON, NO, THAT'S NOT —"_

"_YOU'RE A LIAR!" he shouted, silencing her. "A liar and a cheat! Never, never in my whole life had I been so hurt. I'd — I'd wish I had never met you." he added, glaring at her, and she felt her blood run cold after hearing those words and seeing the loathing in his eyes. "But I s'pose that, in a way, I never did, did I? Because the Hermione I loved doesn't exist. The Hermione I loved was noble and caring, was honest and sincere. And you are none of that," he finished._

_Hermione's heart stopped beating. No, that could not be happening. She couldn't let Ron think that about her, she couldn't bear hearing those words, because they were like a frozen knife in her flesh._

"_Ron, you don't mean that!" Harry said. "Please, just listen to —"_

"_LISTEN!" he screamed, full of rage. "LISTEN! What's to hear, Harry? I'VE SEEN IT, THAT'S ENOUGH! I CANNOT BELIEVE IT! I was your friend, Harry! Or so I believed. I thought you were a noble person. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Great Hero!" he sneered. "How wrong I was. You're nothing more than a backstabbing son of a — a —" Ron didn't complete the sentence. He closed his eyes, trying to hold on his tears, and a moment later, without any other word, turned to his left and ran off._

"_Ron, RON, WAIT!" Hermione bellowed, beginning to run, wanting nothing more than to catch him, so she could explain ... but Harry seized her arm and prevented her from moving._

"_Release me, Harry! She yelled, struggling. "I need to find him, I need to speak to him, to tell him that — that —"_

_Harry shook his head. He was crying, too._

"_What are you going to tell him, Hermione?" he asked, tears spilling from his eyes. "The truth? Give him some time. He needs it. Merlin knows I'd need it if — if it were me."_

_Hermione started to cry harder, and Harry embraced her, but this time, despite the feelings he still awakened inside her, she didn't felt anything. She just needed comfort. She felt as if she were empty._

"_Oh, God, Harry, what have we done? What have we done?"_

"_I know, Hermione. And I'm sorry. I should have been stronger. I promised myself I'd be strong, and failed."_

_Hermione moved her head away from his chest and looked up at him. "What — what do you mean?"_

_Harry looked away. "I — I've been feeling this way, towards you, for a while," he confessed. "Ever since the Quidditch match, more or less. I tried to avoid you, not to see you, not to touch you, but it was useless. And then I promised myself that I'd be strong, that I'd never do or say anything, because Ron is my best friend. But when you took my hand I — I couldn't control myself. I'm sorry, Hermione. I've ruined everything."_

"_It's not your fault," she comforted him. "I am — _was_ — his girlfriend. I had to be the strong one. But I couldn't, as you said. I failed. Oh, God!"_

"_I'm the worst bag of scum in the entire world," he said, putting his hands over his face and sobbing. "I should throw myself out of the nearest window. And yet, part of me wants nothing more than to kiss you again, and again, despite the regret I'm feeling. What kind of monster have I turned into? This is not right, I know it isn't! And then, when I'm near you ... Oh, my God!"_

"_I feel the same," she said, crying. "I hate that this had happened, after how much I tried to avoid it, and at the same time ... after being dreaming about it for the last weeks ..." She started to cry harder. "Why, Harry? Why has this happened to us? It's unfair, to us and to Ron; so unfair. We were so happy ..."_

_Harry looked at her, his eyes shimmering with tears. "I know. I know, Hermione. What — what are we going to do?"_

"_I don't know, but we have to — to talk to R-ron. I cannot bear seeing him like this, Harry. I care for him. A lot."_

"_I care for him, too. I want to do what is right. And yet, I cannot help wanting to be with you! When I'm not near you I feel it's wrong, but when I'm with you ..." he shook his head in desperation and got away from her. "But I can't do this to Ron, even if — if some twisted part of me wishes that I could. We — we can act as if this had never happened. Maybe that would be the best, even though it may be too — too late."_

_Hermione looked at him. "I cannot act as if it had never happened. I simply can't. It's — it's stronger than me, Harry. And ignoring it won't make us — or Ron — forget about it."_

_She saw his body shake, and saw the desire burning in his eyes. She gulped._

"_No. No," he said, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from hers, and she did the same. "This is wrong, no matter what my heart is telling me. We need to sort out this mess; we have to, even though I don't know how."_

"_I don't want Ron to hate us, Harry. I cannot lose him. Although — although I can't be involved with him anymore. Part of me still wants him, God, part of me loves him! But it wouldn't be fair, for any of us. I just wish I had acted sooner. But I was a coward. I tried to convince myself that everything would be all right if I resisted until the end of term. I was a fool, a stupid fool!"_

"_I don't want to lose him, either," he assured, and sighed. "What do you want to do? Go to the Great Hall? Should we try and find him?"_

"_I'm not hungry anymore."_

"_Me neither. Let's go back to the common room then. Maybe Ron will be there?"_

_She nodded and they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was empty, and they stood there, unsure about what to do. Harry sighed and looked at her, and she stared back at him._

"_I think that — that it'll be better if we turn in," he said. Hermione nodded slowly. "I feel as though I am going mad, with all this confronted feelings."_

"_I know how it feels," she said. "I feel the same way." She paused for a moment and then asked, "What are you going to do if Ron is up there?"_

_Harry thought for a moment and answered, "I don't know. I don't think he wants to speak to me ... but if he hits me perhaps I'll feel better, even if it's just a for a moment."_

"_I don't want you two to fight!" shouted Hermione, concerned. "I want to sort this out like — like rational people."_

"_There's nothing rational in what happened tonight, Hermione." He sighed again and, in a voice filled with unlimited sadness, added, "Good night."_

"_Good night, Harry," she responded. Harry turned round, looking absolutely dejected, and went up to his dormitory._

_Hermione did the same. Her room was empty. She undressed slowly and put on her pyjamas, and then she made her way to the bathroom to wash her face, replaying that evening's events in her mind. She looked at the reflection in the mirror, sighing. Her eyes were red and puffy, and still full of tears. How different this image was from that one she had seen six months ago, before going to Slughorn's party!_

_She washed her face with cold water, and then walked back into the room and went to her bed._

"_I'm sorry, Ron, so sorry. But I cannot do anything to help it now; I didn't choose to feel this way ... Oh, God, what am I going to do? Will you — will you be able to forgive me someday?"_

_She barely slept at all that night. Her mind kept replaying the events of the last month over and over again, and she was going mad ... She kept seeing Ron's face, full of anguish; she kept feeling Harry's lips over her own, and she didn't know what to feel anymore. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had lost Ron. She had just lost the best thing that had ever happened to her. She started to cry, her body shaking uncontrollably on the bed._

_It was late, very late, when she finally fell into a disturbed sleep, completely exhausted._

o o o

_Harry was already in the common room, sitting in an armchair, when Hermione got there next morning. By his looks, it was evident that he had had as little sleep as her._

"_Have you seen Ron?" she asked as soon as she saw Harry, and then sat down beside him, but trying to be as far from him as possible._

_Harry shook his head. "He was already in bed when I went to the dorm last night. I tried to speak to him, but he had and Imperturbable Charm around his bed, so I couldn't," he explained. "He's still there. I don't think he'll be up for classes today."_

_Hermione dropped her head in defeat, not knowing what to say._

_Ron didn't come to the Great Hall for breakfast and didn't appear at any of the morning classes. Hermione's anxiety and worry kept growing during the entire morning. Besides, sitting beside Harry in every class didn't help, because she couldn't forget their kiss, which made her feel even guiltier, if that was possible._

_She didn't really expect to see Ron at lunch, but when he didn't appear, she felt even more depressed._

"_I could try to speak to him again," Harry told her. He didn't seem very thrilled by the idea._

"_What are you going to tell him?" she asked. Harry shrugged, but didn't say anything, because in that moment Ginny sat in front of them._

"_Where is Ron?" she asked, frowning. "I didn't see him at breakfast and Neville told me that he didn't come to classes..." she looked at Hermione's face and her frown intensified. "Did you two have a row?"_

"_Sort of," answered Hermione, unable to look at Ginny's eyes._

"_Where is he?"_

"_In our dorm," Harry responded._

"_What happened, Hermione? You look really awful," she insisted, concerned._

"_I — I don't want to talk about it, Ginny. Not now."_

_Ginny stared at her for a moment, and then turned her gaze to Harry, who shrugged and directed his eyes to his plate._

"_All right, then," accepted Ginny reluctantly. "It's none of my business, I suppose."_

_After barely eating, Harry and Hermione stood up and left the Great Hall early._

"_I want to check on him before classes," Harry informed Hermione. "He hasn't eaten anything for a whole day now."_

"_I'll go with you," Hermione said. "It's me who has to — to explain to him. I owe him that, at least."_

_So they went to the common room, and once there, hurried up to the boys' dormitories, but Ron wasn't there._

"_Where is he?" Hermione asked, worry etched upon her face._

"_I don't know," answered Harry. "I suppose he wants to be alone. Maybe he's outside? I'd want that if I — if I were him."_

_Hermione felt tears prick her eyes._

"_Don't cry, Hermione, please," Harry said. She noticed that he wanted to grab her hands, but was refraining, and Hermione felt again the impulse to kiss him, to get lost in his arms and forget about everything else. What a horrible person she was!_

"_Sorry," she said. "It seems it's the only thing I'm able to do now."_

"_Let's go to classes," he proposed. "After that, we'll find him, wherever he is, and we'll speak to him, okay?"_

_Hermione nodded, and the two headed for the Charms classroom, the last class they had that day._

_Just after the class finished, they hurried straight back to Gryffindor Tower again, avoiding any contact with their classmates, who were already gossiping about Ron's absence and Hermione's distressed look._

_Ron was not in the common room, and was not in their dorm, either. Hermione began to panic when Harry informed her of that._

"_Don't worry," Harry began to say. "I don't know why I didn't think about this before, but I'm going to fetch the Marauders Map, and then we'll find Ron, okay?"_

_Hermione nodded, but Harry did not have time to move, because Jimmy Peakes came into the common room in that moment and headed for where they were._

"_Harry, I have a message for you," he said._

"_A message for me?" Harry asked, surprised. Jimmy nodded, gave Harry a piece of parchment and left them alone. Harry read it and sighed. "It's from Dumbledore," he told Hermione. "He wants me to meet him immediately."_

"_Then you have to go," Hermione said, trying to regain her composure and act rationally. "I'll get the map and search for Ron, okay?"_

"_Okay," Harry said. "See you later," he added, and left._

_Sighing, Hermione used her wand to summon the map and began to search for Ron's name amongst the hundreds of points representing the inhabitants of the castle._

_After five minutes, she spotted Ron's label and exhaled a sigh of relief: he was walking, alone, near the lake. For a moment, she thought about going there, with him, and telling him —_

'Telling him — what?'

_She sighed. The truth was that she didn't know what to say. That the kiss had been a mistake? It had been, yes, but that was not the entire truth. She folded the map and waited there, staring at the flames in the fireplace, cursing herself for her own cowardice, for her weakness, for her inability to do what she should do._

_About twenty minutes later, the Portrait opened and Ron walked into the common room. He spotted her and froze on the spot, unable to move. Hermione got suddenly nervous, staring back at him. He looked as if he was lost. His eyes were puffy and red and his skin was paler than ever. Seeing him like that made her feel even worse, and she realised that she wanted to hug him and kiss him and —_

_What was happening to her was definitely not normal. Was she in love with two boys? Was that possible?_

"_Ron —" she began, not knowing what more to say._

_Ron tore his eyes away from her, and began to move towards the staircase in long and determined strides._

"_Ron, please," she said, feeling the tears swelling in her eyes. "Talk to me."_

_Ron's face, sad and depressed a moment before, turned to anger in a second as he directed his gaze back to her._

"_Talk?" he hissed. "Talk? About what, Hermione? Shouldn't you be s-snogging your —" he paused and seemed to be trying to swallow a lump in his throat, "— your new boyfriend?" he asked. He clenched his fists and turned his head to not have to look at her. He began to move again, and Hermione wanted to yell that Harry wasn't her boyfriend, but in that moment the portrait of the Fat Lady opened and the latter walked in the common room, looking anxious and excited. He stopped dead upon seeing Ron and Hermione there, and for a moment he was unable to say anything._

"_Harry?" Hermione asked, tentatively._

"_Dumbledore has found another," Harry explained hurriedly. "Another horcrux. And he wants me to go with him."_

"_Oh," said Hermione. Ron looked at Harry, but he didn't say anything. "That's –- that's —"_

"_That's not all," Harry said, taking hurriedly. "Malfoy was in the Room of Requirement, and he seemed very happy. I'm sure he's up to something, and Dumbledore won't be here. I want — need — you to keep a watch on him and on Snape. Use anyone you can summon from the DA ..." Harry paused for a moment and, taking his wand, Summoned the bottle of Felix Felicis. "Use this, okay?"_

"_No!" Hermione yelled, getting to her feet. "You'll need it!"_

"_I'll be with Dumbledore," Harry said, and then looked at Ron. "Ron —"_

"_Shut up."_

"_Hit me," Harry pleaded. "Break my nose. Slap me. Kick me if you want. I deserve it and Merlin knows I won't defend myself."_

_Hermione saw Ron clench his fists, and, for a moment, she was sure he was going to do exactly that. But, instead, Ron closed his eyes for a moment, and then relaxed._

"_Dumbledore's waiting for you," he said simply. "I would want nothing more than to curse you both, but this is not the moment," he stated. "I'll help you," he declared, surprising them, and then added, "My sister is here. I'm not doing it for any of you."_

_Harry nodded sadly and said awkwardly "I'm going then. See — see you later."_

"_Harry!" Hermione yelled. He looked at her and she hesitated, but then she hugged him tightly. She knew that, most surely, she shouldn't do this, but he was going to try to retrieve a horcrux! He could die! "Be careful, please."_

"_I'll be with Dumbledore," he said, a bit flushed, and then turned to the portrait hole and ran out of the room._

_Hermione turned to Ron, who was in the middle of the room, staring at the floor._

"_Ron —"_

"_I don't want to hear anything from you," he said through gritted teeth, cutting her in. "Use your galleon to summon help."_

_Hermione sighed and, with shaking hands, did exactly that. Ron walked to the armchairs near the fire and sat on one of them. Hermione looked at him for ten minutes, trying to gather the courage and the words to speak to him._

"_Ron, Harry and I haven't been seeing each other behind your back. You have to —"_

"_Yeah, whatever," he angrily interrupted her. "I don't care. I wish you all the happiness you deserve."_

"_Ron, please!" she begged, in the verge of tears. "I'm telling you the truth! We —"_

"_THE TRUTH?" He bellowed, outraged. "The truth, Hermione? You've got a nerve, telling me this. I don't believe you anymore. You both seemed to be in love, the way you were —" his voice tailed away, and he wiped the tears from his eyes, unable to say the words out loud._

_Hermione was unable to deny that, and it was as good as a confirmation to Ron. He looked at her, fury and loathing etched on his face. "It's true," he said in a low voice, trembling. "You're in love with him." He was shaking now. "Lies ... everything you told me were lies ..." Ron glared at her with such hatred that Hermione flinched and stepped back, as if his glare had effectively punched her. She was about to say something, say that she had really, really loved him, that part of her _still_ loved him, but then the portrait opened and Neville, Ginny and Luna appeared, worry evident in their faces. They stopped after seeing Ron and Hermione. Ginny's eyes travelled between the two and then she spoke._

"_We felt our fake Galleons burn and came im— What's the matter?" she asked, staring at them confused._

"_Nothing, nothing," said Hermione dismissively. Ron didn't say anything. Trying to maintain a straight face, she explained everything to them. "So we need to make two groups: one to watch out Snape's office and another to watch out the Room of Requirement," she concluded._

"_I'll go with Ginny and Neville to the Room," interjected Ron. "Luna, you and Hermione can go to Snape's office."_

_Hermione nodded, knowing full well that Ron had organised the groups to make sure he hadn't to be in her presence. She gave a sip of Felix Felicis to each one of them and then took the last gulp herself. The potion would give them an hour and half time of luck at the most. She hoped it was enough. Then, wishing the others good luck, both groups parted, heading for their respective destinations._

_Hermione and Luna went downstairs to the Entrance Hall and then took the Dungeons Corridor where Snape's office was and waited. No one of them spoke for a long time, and Hermione was grateful for it._

"_So, you and Ron are still rowing?" asked Luna suddenly and shamelessly, after at least one hour of silence._

"_What?" asked Hermione, surprised._

"_You two had a row, didn't you? A lot of people were speaking about it at dinner, and by the looks on your faces, you're still angry at each other," Luna said._

"_Well — yes," said Hermione, blushing. She turned round, trying to avoid Luna's stare. She didn't want to cry again, it was not the moment._

"_You'll sort it out," Luna affirmed. "You really fit together, do you know?"_

"_Yeah, sure," Hermione said, not knowing what to do, the need to cry growing inside her. She didn't feel cheerful as Harry had been when he had drunk the potion. Her situation with Ron and her worries about Harry were making her feel horrible._

_In that moment, Professor Flitwick appeared in the corridor, running and yelling something about Death Eaters and the Dark Mark. Confused, Hermione and Luna saw him enter Snape's office. After a minute, Snape himself came out of the room and said them that Death Eaters had broke into Hogwarts, and ordered Luna and Hermione to tend to Professor Flitwick, who had passed out._

_Hermione could only nod, and, while Snape went away running, she and Luna went inside the office and helped Professor Flitwick, who was unconscious, lying on the floor in the middle of the room. They put him over a desk and, after ten minutes of useless waiting, Hermione told Luna:_

"_I cannot wait here anymore! If there are Death Eaters in Hogwarts, we must go and help! Ginny, Neville and Ron are there ..." She tried not to think about Ron. What if something happened to him while they were not talking? She could not bear it. And then there was Harry ... Was he all right, wherever he was?_

"_You're right. Professor Flitwick will be all right, I think. Let's go," agreed Luna._

_They exited the room and hurried along the corridor to the Entrance Hall. Hermione noticed that the Gryffindor Hourglass was shattered, and the rubies that indicated house points were scattered over the floor. And uneasy feeling grew inside her. They turned towards the staircase and went up, not knowing where to go exactly. They were reaching the seventh floor when they heard some yells. Exchanging a brief glance, they quickened their pace until they found Tonks and Lupin, who were helping Neville. The corridor looked like a battle has just taken place in it._

"_What happened?" Hermione asked, anxious. "Where are Ginny and Ron?"_

"_Ron is in the hospital wing with Bill," Lupin answered._

_An overwhelming fear washed over her. "WHAT? But — but — Is he hurt? Is he —?"_

"_Calm down, calm down, Hermione!" Tonks told her, in a soothing voice. "He's fine. It's Bill who's hurt."_

"_And Ginny went after Harry, I think ..." commented Lupin._

"_Harry?" Hermione asked, her nervousness intensifying. "He is back?"_

"_Yes," Lupin answered. "He came from the Astronomy Tower, after Snape and Malfoy. Ginny followed them."_

"_What happened here?" asked Luna. "Neville, are you okay?"_

_Lupin told them how Tonks, Bill and him had been on guard, under Dumbledore orders, and how they had found Ron, Ginny and Neville and the Death Eaters that had entered the castle through the Room of Requirement. A battle had begun after that, and someone had conjured the Dark Mark above the Astronomy Tower. The Death Eaters had gone up there, but some sort of barrier had blocked the stairs, so the Order had not been able to follow them. Then Snape had appeared, had gone up, too, and after a bit, he and Malfoy had come back, running, with the rest of the Death Eaters and Harry behind them._

"_One of the Death Eaters is dead," Lupin explained. "Neville got hit by a curse, but I think he'll be all right."_

"_Bill is the one that suffered the most," added Tonks, dejected. "He was attacked by Fenrir Greyback."_

_Hermione let out a shriek of terror. "He was bitten?"_

"_Yes," Lupin answered. "Greyback was not transformed, though, so I don't know what exactly will happen to him."_

_They headed for the hospital wing. Hermione had not been more nervous in his life. Ron's brother was bitten by a werewolf, and Harry... where was he?_

_When they walked into the hospital wing, Hermione spotted Ron beside a bed. Bill was lying over it, and madam Pomfrey was quickly putting some lotion or potion over the horrible scars on his face. Ron seemed completely off, as he stood there, watching his oldest brother silently. He seemed to be fine, and Hermione felt a sudden impulse to run into his arms and hug him tightly, but she restrained himself. Their last talk was still fresh in her mind. She was sure he didn't want her to hug him. He hated her now._

"_How is he?" asked Lupin, putting Neville on another bed._

"_Better, but it's still too soon to tell," madam Pomfrey answered. "These are cursed wounds."_

_Hermione looked at Ron, but he didn't seem to acknowledge her. Then, the doors opened again and Harry and Ginny walked in. Both of them looked drained, but Harry's eyes were almost empty, hopeless. Unable to stop herself, she ran into his arms and he put them around her, tightly._

"_You're okay ... you're okay ..." she repeated, letting the warm comfort of being embraced by him fill her._

"_I am," he said. "And you?"_

"_Fine. Neville's hurt, but he'll be all right," she answered, moving away from him. She looked at Ron and saw that he was staring at them, but when she caught his eyes, he looked down. He seemed defeated, and Hermione felt a new wave of guilt swept over her._

"_Dumbledore is dead," blurted then Ginny, and Hermione forgot for a moment about everything else and looked at her._

"_What?" she asked. "You can't be serious."_

"_She's right," Harry interjected, brushing his hands over his face._

"_How?" asked Lupin, moving towards them. "How?"_

"_It was Snape," explained Harry, and the anger was now visible in his face. "It was him. The Killing Curse."_

"_No, it can't be," said Tonks, shaking her head. Madam Pomfrey burst into tears, and even Ron seemed in awe, looking at Harry as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing._

_Then, McGonagall entered the hospital wing, saying that the Weasleys were on their way to Hogwarts, and asked Harry what has happened._

_And Harry told them how they have seen the Dark Mark from Hogsmeade, how they had flown towards the Astronomy Tower and how Malfoy had ambushed them and Disarmed Dumbledore; and, finally, that Snape had appeared and, without a second thought, had killed the Headmaster with the Killing Curse._

"_Snape ... Snape ..." muttered Professor McGonagall. "But, he always trusted ... He always hinted that he knew something about Snape that made him trust him."_

"_I wonder what that was," said Tonks._

"_Snape was the one who delivered Voldemort the information that made him go after my parents," explained Harry painfully. "Snape told Dumbledore that he was sorry, that he didn't mean that, that he didn't want them dead ..."_

"_And Dumbledore believed that?" exclaimed Lupin, bewildered. "Snape hated James!"_

"_And he despised my mother, too," added Harry. "He called her a '_Mudblood_' ..."_

_Hermione looked at him, profoundly touched by Harry's grief, by everything he had to endure. The responsible for his parents' deaths had been there, in the school, with them, and she had never believed him when he had warned them about Snape ... She felt more guilt flooding inside her, and hugged him again._

"_Oh, Harry, I am so sorry!" she cried. "You told us, and we didn't believe you! And this is my fault! We were outside Snape's room. Flitwick came running and went inside without noticing me and Luna. Then Snape came out and told us to help him because he had fainted ... And we did just that! We were so stupid! Snape Stupefied him, I'm sure!"_

"_It's okay," he said, absentmindedly caressing her head. "It's not your fault."_

"_If you had tried to stop him, Hermione," interjected Lupin, "he could have killed you and Luna."_

_The doors opened once more, and this time, Mr and Mrs Weasley came in hurriedly, close followed by and anxious-looking Fleur._

"_Arthur — Molly ... I'm sorry, so sorry," said Professor McGonagall, hurrying to greet them._

"_Oh, Bill!" whispered Mrs Weasley upon seeing his oldest son. "Oh, Bill!"_

_Hermione heard them speak about how Bill had been bitten, but Hermione had only eyes for Mrs Weasley and how she was now tending to her son. Then her gaze moved to Ron and found him staring at her and Harry, and realised that she was still in Harry's arms. Without thinking, she moved away from Harry, who released her, his attention focused on Lupin. She locked eyes with Ron for a few seconds, and she knew that he was seeing Harry and her as an item, and that he understood that he was now alone, although it wasn't true that she and Harry were a couple, or anything remotely close to that, despite what they both felt. And she wanted to say something, tell him that, but didn't know how to say it, and giving what had happened, it was not the moment. _

_An angry outburst from Fleur took her out of her reverie. She looked at the Veela, who was telling Mrs Weasley that she loved Bill as much as before the scars, that she didn't mind, and then she and Mrs Weasley were hugging and crying together. Hermione looked at Ginny, who seemed as bewildered by this as she was._

"_Look, she doesn't care!" bellowed then Tonks, who also seemed at the verge of tears. "He's been bitten and she doesn't care, Remus!"_

"_It's different," Lupin said, not meeting her eyes. "He will not transform."_

"_I don't care about that, I've told you," insisted Tonks._

"_And I've told you that I am too old, too poor for you," argued Lupin sadly. "You deserve a young and whole man —"_

"_But young and whole men don't always remain like that," interjected Mr Weasley with a sad smile, with a quick glance to Bill. "She wants you, Remus."_

_Lupin seemed a bit lost, and, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, said: "Well — this is not the time to discuss this ... Dumbledore's dead ..."_

"_Dumbledore would have been delighted, more than anyone, that there was a bit more love in the world," piped up Professor McGonagall._

_Hermione was in absolute awe. So Tonks was in love with Lupin?_

_The doors opened again, and this time it was Hagrid who walked inside, weeping._

"_It's … It's done, Professor," he choked. "M — moved him. Professor Sprout's got the kids back in their beds, an' Professor Flitwick's lyin' down, but he says he'll be all righ' soon, an' Professor Slughorn says the Ministry's bin informed."_

"_Thanks, Hagrid," said McGonagall. "I'll have to meet the Ministry once they get here, but I'd like to meet the Heads of House before. Please, Hagrid, get them all in my office. And I'll want to see you there too."_

"_I'll do it," said Hagrid, and he left, still weeping._

"_I'd want to talk to you before that meeting, Harry," said McGonagall, turning to him. Harry nodded, and told them, 'I'll see you in Gryffindor Tower later' and left the hospital wing with the professor. She looked at Ron, who was now staring at Fleur putting the ointment over Bill's face. His expression was so sad, so full of longing that Hermione felt her heart break. And she knew what he was thinking: that he was now alone; that, if something like that had happened to him, he would not have a girlfriend to take care of him the way Fleur was taking care of Bill. Hermione wanted to yell that that was not true, that, no matter what had happened, or how confused she felt, he, Ron, would always be one of the most important people in her life, that she would always care for him… That a part of her still loved him ... That he was the only one she wanted to love ..._

_Ron sighed and, without another word, without another glance at her, left the hospital wing. Hermione felt Ginny's stare on her._

"_What happened, Hermione?" she asked in a low voice. "What happened between you two?"_

"_He — he didn't tell you anything?"_

"_No, I asked him, but he was not very talkative. Tell me what happened, please, because I don't like seeing him like this, or you. You look so miserable."_

"_Now is not the moment," she said, noticing that Mr Weasley was watching them. Hermione didn't want to imagine what would happen once the Weasleys knew what Harry and she had done. She loved that family as much as her own, and she feared that their love towards her would vanish when they discovered what had happened between Ron and his two — former — best friends. She remembered the striped jumper Mrs Weasley had sent her last Christmas, and felt the sudden need to cry._

"_Well, I — I think I'm going back to Gryffindor Tower," Hermione announced._

"_Me too," said Ginny. "I'm exhausted."_

"_It's okay," agreed Mrs Weasley, in a weak and hoarse voice. "Go and have your rest. You've already done a lot tonight."_

_Ginny gave one hug to her mum and dad, and then she and Hermione left the hospital wing. They walked in silence to Gryffindor Tower. Ginny kept glancing at Hermione, and she was feeling very nervous. She simply was not able to tell Ginny the truth about Ron and her._

"_I'm sorry about Bill, Ginny," she said at last._

"_It could be worse," said Ginny, serious. "He could have died. And well, at least we know Fleur really cares about him and not just about his looks. I — I thought she was much shallower."_

"_Yeah, I know," Hermione agreed, and then she remembered that brief moment she had shared with the French witch, at The Burrow, on New Year's Day. The impression she had got that day had now been confirmed. "I suppose we misjudged her."_

"_Yeah, we did," said Ginny._

_They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and went into the common room. It was crowded, but Ron was not there._

"_I'm knackered," said Ginny, sighing. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Hermione."_

"_Goodnight."_

_Hermione was torn between going to her bed and waiting for Harry. But she was also exhausted, and didn't want to be asked by her housemates about that night's events, so, in the end, she decided to go to bed. She could talk to Harry in the morning, and decide what to do — about what had happened and about Ron._

_Sleep didn't came easily to her, though, because she couldn't stop thinking about what a mess she was in: her relationship with Ron was ruined, his family didn't know anything, and, now, Dumbledore was dead … What would stop Voldemort now? Who would stand up to him? What was going to happen? How were they going to mend things? Everything around them seemed ominous and terrifying, and she felt they were all doomed._

o o o

_Hermione woke up with the noise of someone packing. Slowly, she moved away the curtains on her bed and saw Parvati putting her things in her trunk. She looked affronted and worried. Lavender was there, too, looking at her friend with a troubled expression on her face._

"_Parvati?" Hermione asked. "What are you doing?"_

"_My parents are going to take me and Padma in one hour," she explained bitterly. "They're taking us out of Hogwarts."_

"_Oh," she said. "I'm sorry."_

"_I wanted to be here for Dumbledore's funeral, but I was unable to convince them."_

_Hermione gave her a sympathetic smile, put her uniform on and went down to the common room. Harry was already there, sitting in an armchair, alone._

"_Good morning," she said, a bit awkwardly._

"_Morning, Hermione," he answered._

"_How are you, Harry?"_

_He shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. Do you want to go for a walk?"_

_She nodded, and they left Gryffindor Tower._

"_Did you — did you see Ron?" she asked nervously. "I need to talk to him, Harry. He deserves the truth."_

"_No," Harry answered. "He had his curtains shut and had put an Imperturbable Charm on them, again. And when I woke up he wasn't there." Hermione didn't know what to say, and they remained quiet until they crossed the front doors of the castle and were far from it, near the other side of the lake._

"_The Funeral is tomorrow," he explained to her. "They're talking about closing Hogwarts, about not opening the school next year."_

"_That would be strange," said Hermione, not knowing how she really felt about it._

"_I don't mind it, much," replied Harry. "I'm not coming back even if it does open."_

"_Why not?" asked Hermione, surprised and a bit afraid._

"_Dumbledore is dead. I need to find the remaining horcruxes and destroy them."_

"_I should have imagined you'd say something like that," she commented with a sad smile. "What about last night? Did you get the horcrux before you came back?"_

_Harry's expression saddened and his mouth twitched. He reached into one of his pockets and passed her a heavy locket. Hermione opened it, giving Harry a confused look, and read a piece of parchment that was inside._

_To the Dark Lord _

_I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. _

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more. _

_R.A.B._

"_It's not the real one …" said Hermione. She looked at Harry, confused. "This R.A.B. person took it before you?" Harry nodded. "And you don't have any idea about who can be?"_

"_No. And Dumbledore never saw the note. So there's still four horcruxes to find, because we don't know whether this person destroyed the locket or not."_

"_We'll have to use the Library. Perhaps we can find someone who matches that initials," suggested Hermione._

"_Yeah, I suppose," nodded Harry._

"_I'll go with you, Harry. Wherever you go," she declared, staring at him intensely. Harry stared back at her, looking awe-struck. "What?"_

"_We've always done everything together. I won't leave you now. I'll go with you and will help you bring him down."_

"_Hermione …" he said, deeply touched. He seemed out of words. "I don't know what to say. Are — are you sure?"_

"_I think this was decided long time ago, Harry, the day Ron —" she gulped. It was hard talking about Ron, "— Ron and I went with you to protect the Philosopher's Stone."_

_Harry cringed at the mention of Ron's name. "I don't think Ron will be so supportive. And I cannot blame him. We brought this upon ourselves."_

"_He helped us yesterday, tough," Hermione commented._

"_Because it was the right thing to do," said Harry. He sighed deeply and stared at Hermione. "I feel torn, Hermione."_

_Hermione stared back at his eyes. "Me too."_

"_I don't understand this," he moaned. "I've never felt this way towards you ... And now, I can't be near you without wanting to kiss you. Desperately."_

"_I feel the same way," Hermione nodded. "Part of me feels that _this _is wrong, that I should not feel this way towards you. This part loves Ron, and wants to be with him, and knows that feeling like this towards you is not right. But when I am with you I feel that it is exactly how it must be."_

"_Yeah. I am here, and, although I know it is wrong, every cell of my body is asking me to let it go and —" he shook his head and fell silent._

_Hermione felt her own body tingle when she heard Harry's words. She felt the same. The need to get closer to him, to kiss him, to feel his body against hers was almost overwhelming._

"_But we can't."_

"_I know."_

"_It's not right."_

"_I know," he said sadly, and looked down. "I know." _

_For a while, they just stood there, without talking. Hermione didn't know what to do. One part of her wanted to hug Harry, to let him embrace her and tell her that everything would be all right, to get lost in his love. Another, she realised suddenly, wanted nothing more than to get away from him, than not to see him ever again, because he had cost her too much. And yet, it had not been only his fault, but theirs, so they simply sat on a rock, enjoying the silent company without the slightest touch between their bodies._

_It was fifteen minutes later when they began to walk back to the castle. The silent company of Harry had soothed her, at least for a bit, but she could still feel an ominous feeling. The path that lay in front of them was dark and dangerous, and, for the first time, there would not be anyone to back up them, there would not be professors to help, there would not be a Dumbledore to solve things … And, above all, the three of them were not united. That was what scared her the most; they had always faced everything together, the three of them._

_They were approaching the front doors when they saw Ginny walking hurriedly out of the castle. She looked around her, as if looking for something or someone. Then, she spotted them and, glaring at them, she moved towards where they stood. The look on her face was murderous._

"_Ginny?" Hermione said, a little afraid. "What has —?"_

"_IS IT TRUE?" Ginny bellowed, startling them, her gaze travelling between them._

"_What?" asked Harry, bewildered. But Hermione understood at once: Ginny knew._

"_IS IT TRUE?" Ginny repeated. Her eyes were beginning to glitter with tears. "IS IT TRUE THAT YOU TWO — YOU —"_

"_Ginny —" began to say Hermione._

"_TELL ME!" Ginny shouted, her voice full of rage. "IS IT TRUE THAT YOU CHEATED ON RON, HERMIONE? WITH HARRY?"_

_Hermione was trembling, and was, also, on the verge of tears. "Y — Yes," she confessed. "But you don't understa—"_

"_I CANNOT BLOODY BELIEVE IT!" shrieked Ginny. She seemed beside herself. "YOU WERE HIS BEST FRIENDS! And all this time, you didn't tell me, you were lying to me, as if what happened was some silly row!"_

"_Ginny, please," Hermione begged. "You don't understand —"_

"_Understand?" Ginny repeated in disbelief. "Understand? What is there to understand, Hermione?" she asked. "How? How could you do that to Ron?" she demanded, now almost crying._

"_I — it wasn't my intention, Ginny. I don't know how it happened. We simply were there and —"_

"_Don't make excuses!" Ginny yelled. "I thought you were a better person! I already counted you as my sister!" She then turned to Harry. "And you … you were his best friend! He loved you as a brother! How could you do this to him?"_

_Harry didn't know what to say. "Ginny, I — I tried to avoid it, I swear. I swear! But I couldn't. If I could go back in time I'd have jumped out of a window before — before doing that to him," he added, ashamed._

"_DON'T LIE!" Ginny shouted, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "Don't lie! I saw you yesterday, in the hospital wing! You were there, hugging, and Ron was present! Now I understand why he left!"_

"_We didn't mean to hurt him!" yelled Hermione. "I was just worried! What with all that had happened. We —"_

"_Shut up," said Ginny spitefully, shaking her head. "Shut your fucking mouth! And now, I found you two here, together! A morning snog, isn't it? After all what happened!"_

"_Ginny, no! This is not —" Hermione tried to explain._

"_You're despicable," she snapped, without listening to her. "And I confided in you! After all you told me, after all your advices —"_

"_Ginny, please! We want to fix this," Harry said, pleading. "Did he tell you this? Where is he?"_

"_Where is he? WHERE IS HE?" Ginny shouted again, and burst into tears. "HE LEFT!"_

_A sudden, eerie feeling flooded Hermione, and, even though the day was hot, she felt suddenly cold. "What — what do you mean 'he left'?"_

"_I MEAN THAT HE LEFT THE CASTLE! HE'S GONE!" Ginny explained, showing them the piece of parchment she was clutching in her right hand._

"_NO!" yelled Harry. "His things were there, in the room, he —"_

"_He sent me this letter!" Ginny exclaimed. "It was in my bed when I woke up! He left because he couldn't stand seeing you two all over each other in front of him!"_

"_No, no," said Hermione in denial. Something inside her was breaking, and a painful lump was forming in her throat. "He can't leave. He can't."_

"_HE DID!" yelled Ginny. "He's not anywhere! He said that he didn't need his things! He — He —" She closed her mouth, unable to say anything more._

"_Where? Where is he?" Hermione asked. "Has he gone to the Burrow?"_

"_No. He didn't say where!" Ginny wiped her tears away and looked again at them, full of hatred. "This is your fault. Everything's your fault. And now I have to tell Mum and Dad … I HATE YOU!" she bellowed, and, whirling around, she ran away._

"_NO, Ginny! WAIT!" Harry called her. "PLEASE! Please, wait … please, we didn't mean any harm …" he begged, and dropped onto knees, his voice fading. He was crying too. "We didn't mean any harm ... We're not together ... We didn't mean — we didn't —"_

_Hermione dropped to her knees, too, unable to stand up. "Oh, God! Oh, Merlin! What have we done … What have we done …"_

"_The map," suggested Harry suddenly, his voice shaky and nearly desperate. "He has to be here, somewhere… With the map we'll find him," Harry said, as if trying to convince himself. Taking out his wand, he used the Summoning Charm, and soon the map came zooming to them. Frantically, Harry and Hermione looked at it, searching for Ron's name … without success._

"_He's not here," Hermione said, defeated. "He's not here, Harry. He left. He left!"_

"_I'll send Hedwig with a message," Harry affirmed, his hands shaking as he folded the map. "And she'll find him, wherever he is. We'll make him come back."_

"_The Weasleys are going to hate us, Harry," Hermione commented, crying. "And they are like my own family."_

"_They are my _only_ family," Harry replied. He brushed his face again and sighed dejectedly. "I suppose that, until we can make up with Ron, we — we're alone." Harry paused and Hermione didn't say anything. "Perhaps it is better this way," he added, and Hermione glared at him, furious. How could he say that? "I don't want anyone following us, or the Death Eaters targeting them while I am on the run searching for the horcruxes. If they hate us ... at least they'll be safe."_

_Hermione's expression softened and looked at him with her swollen eyes._

"_I told you before, and I tell you again now: I'm going with you," she assured, still sobbing. "If we want to mend things, we have to stop him. You need me, Harry."_

_Harry stood up and looked at her, as if he was pondering whether to embrace her. And part of her desired that more than anything: to get in his arms and forget about everything. But another part, maybe that one that still loved Ron, that part that, despite everything, desired to be with him, wanted to get away from Harry, because he was the cause they were in this mess —_

_Hermione shook her head, trying to clear her mind, and got up. It was not only Harry's fault. In fact, if someone was guiltier, it was her. And she could not do this, leave him alone._

"_I'm sorry for this mess, Hermione. I'm so sorry," Harry apologised._

"_It's not only your fault," Hermione replied. "It's ours. And we'll deal with it, together." She moved a bit away from him, wiped away her tears and looked at his face. "I'm with you, Harry. I'll help you find them, and then I'll stand by you when you fight him. I'll stick with you, until the very end."_

* * *

><p>Well, now you know what happened, and got a glimpse of what Ron and Ginny think that happened. Ron and Hermione broke up, and now Harry and Hermione are alone (but not together in the 'couple' sense) just when the trio had to be more united.<p>

If you're not full of questions right now, I didn't do my job very well. I hope the H/Hr parts weren't too hard, but they had to be done. Believe me, writing them was not pleasant for me. I suppose your hearts are bleeding for Ron right now. But don't tell me you don't feel bad — even if it's only a bit — for Harry and Hermione too.

With this chapter we've reached a turning point. It's time to start digging under the surface and learn about secrets never revealed. But you need time, I think. Until next Sunday!

Ah, one last thing! I'm into **Pottermore**! I'm **KeyDragon209**, if you want to know!


	18. The Fulfilled Prophecy

**The Fulfilled Prophecy**

Hermione awoke, sweating and breathing hard, the images still fresh in her mind. Sighing, she stared at the window, noticing that it was almost dawn. She closed her eyes, and saw them again, the images, the memories of her worst mistake, of her weakness, of her greatest loss …

Wiping her eyes, she remembered that day. After sending Hedwig with a letter, Harry had gone to his dorm, and she had gone to the Library. Not wanting to see anyone, wanting to drown in her misery alone. She had done the only useful thing she had thought she could do: searching for information about R.A.B., but, when she had headed for her room, she had found nothing.

After an almost sleepless night, she had dressed for the funeral, and had gone down to the common room. When she had reached the end of the stairs, she had spotted Harry, who was walking towards the portrait hole. But then, it had opened, and Fred and George had walked in, their faces murderous. Harry had stopped dead after seeing them, but the twins had not said a single word. After seeing him, George had punched him directly on his face, breaking his nose. Harry had fallen to the floor, not even moaning, and Hermione had seen everything, unable to move. Harry hadn't said anything, as if he was wishing for another blow, but it never came.

"We never expected this from you!" George had yelled, almost shaking. "Thank Merlin for being the _fucking_ Chosen One!" he had added, before turning round and leaving with Fred.

The few people in the common room had beginning to whisper, not really understanding what was happening. Harry, still silent, had got up, and Hermione had approached him, taking her wand and healing her nose.

"Are you all right?" she had asked, in a low voice. With a little nod, they both had gone down to the grounds. Only Fred and George had attended the funeral. Hermione had supposed their parents and Ginny were trying to find Ron. She felt another sudden desire to cry. What they had done, could never, ever be forgiven or repaired.

The train ride back had been gloomy and awful. Harry and Hermione had shared a compartment with Luna and Neville, but there had barely been any talk. What they both knew, or suspect, about what had happened, Hermione didn't know.

Once in King's Cross, she had looked at Harry, before saying goodbye, and had realised her feelings for him were still there. She had been a fool, believing that they would go away. If they hadn't gone away after all this ...

"See you, Harry. Take care."

"Yeah. We'll keep in touch."

"Let me know — let me know if he writes back, please."

And so, they had departed, and during the journey towards her house, Hermione had thought about how she was going to tell her parents, who loved Ron so much ...

Closing her eyes again, she remembered the chat with her mother, that night ...

"_Hermione, talk to me right now. You're worrying me, dear. You seem really awful."_

_Hermione looked at her mother, and her eyes welled with tears._

"_I'm an awful person, Mum."_

"_What are you saying? Of course you aren't!" her mother had yelled, outraged._

"_I am. I am. I — I cheated on Ron with Harry, Mum."_

_Her mother blinked a few times, looking at her as if she was not sure whether she had heard correctly._

"_You did what?"_

"_I cheated on Ron with Harry."_

_Jean Granger stared at her as if she were seeing her for the first time, and Hermione felt the need to dig a hole, crawl into it and not resurface ever again._

"_You cheated on Ron. With Harry. You mean — that Harry you always refer to as '_the brother you never had'?"

"_Yes."_

"_Why?"_

"_I think, well, I'm fairly sure, now, that I — well, I'm in love with him," she explained, looking down at the table._

"_In love with Harry."_

_Hermione nodded._

"_I don't understand, Hermione. You never — you've been in love with Ron for — Well, almost forever!"_

"_I know. I know. God Mum, what have I done? It started around the end of May. I — I just started to see Harry differently! Don't ask me why, because I don't know."_

"_And you decided to try him?" her mother asked, a bit harshly._

"_No!" she yelled. "I just hoped it would go away, if I resisted. I hoped that, after coming home, I would be normal again. I wanted to want only Ron!"_

"_And? What happened?"_

"_I — well, I grabbed his hand, in a corridor, two days ago. When I realised it, we were kissing, and Ron — Ron appeared t-there and saw us."_

"_Oh Good Lord!" exclaimed Jean Granger, completely taken aback. "Good Lord, Hermione!"_

"_I know, I know Mum. And the worst thing is that — that I couldn't stop thinking about it! And I don't know why! Thinking about Ron's kisses always brought a smile to my face! This kiss didn't that, and not just because I had cheated! Why couldn't I stop thinking about it? Merlin, Mum ... Ron was the better thing that had ever happened to me. And I ... I broke his heart."_

"_Oh, Hermione! You expected it to go away? You should have broken up with Ron! Love doesn't go away so easily!"_

"_I KNOW!" she yelled, now crying. "But it c-came that way! Just one d-day I started to see him d-differently a-and —"_

"_It can't be, Hermione. You can't fall in love with someone you've known for so long in a few days."_

"_Well, that was what happened! Do you think I understand it? I d-don't!" she cried for a moment. "I love him, Mum, and he'll hate me forever. And I d-deserve it. I ... I wish I were dead."_

_Her mother scowled at her. "Never, ever say that, Hermione!" she yelled, and then, softening her expression, embraced her tightly, letting her cry against her shoulder._

"_Everything'll be okay, dear. Everything'll be okay," her mother whispered, in a soothing voice, while she caressed her daughter's hair._

"_N-nothing will be o-okay. Nothing," she whispered back ..._

Next day she had gone to Diagon Alley and had brought her own owl, which had sent immediately with a written letter to Ron. But it had been useless. After a few days, the owl had come back, without having delivered the letter. She had sent it two more times, with the same result. And Harry had said that Hedwig had not been able to reach him, either. It seemed that, wherever Ron was, he didn't want to be found. And Hermione just hoped he were right.

She had spent most of the days reading the books about horcruxes she had got from Dumbledore's office, reading in the Prophet (which usually she didn't receive at home, but she had decided she couldn't be uninformed), sensing that everything was crumbling. Voldemort was getting too stronger. Her parents were worried about her, but she also knew that they had never been so disappointed in her. But she was worried about them, too, and had started to develop a plan to protect them.

And then, towards the end of the month, she had been called to an Order meeting at The Burrow, to discuss Harry's rescue. She had dreaded this moment, but she had had to go. She had done enough things the wrong way. She had done a terrible thing, and she had to face the consequences.

She hadn't seen Ginny on that occasion, because she hadn't attended the meeting. She had expected to be called a 'scarlet woman' by Mrs Weasley, or even being slapped. But she had received none of that. They simply had treated her with strange mixture of loathing and indifference which was even worse.

The Weasleys were helping them out of loyalty, and because they wanted the war to end and Harry to survive, but it was clear as water that they no longer considered either of them part of the family. They didn't want Harry there at the Burrow — although they had not said it out loud — and he and Hermione were not, of course, invited to Bill and Fleur's wedding.

After the reunion, Mrs Weasley has simply said out loud, without allowing her to speak, that, once the Order meetings were over, only family members were allowed at The Burrow. So she had Apparated back home to finish what she had started, to do what she knew she had to do, and had bewitched her parents, making them believe they were other people, and had made them move to Australia. The Ministry was crumbling, some important officials were under the _Imperius _Curse, and he wanted her parents to be safe. And if she died in the war, something that now seemed very likely, they would not remember they had a daughter and could still go on and be happy.

And, while her parents packed and got ready to leave the country, she had spent the night at a hotel, in a room that meant nothing to her, alone and afraid, crying, not sleeping at all and without anyone to comfort her during those terrible and difficult moments. Harry was the only person that cared for her by then, but she could not go to Privet Drive. She was now completely alone.

Next day, she had gone back to her now empty and cold house. And had stayed there, silent and immersed in memories, until it was time to join the Order for Harry's rescue, two days later

Using magic to move him was impossible, because, with the excuse of protecting Harry, Pius Thicknesse (who then was Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement and was under the _Imperius _Curse) had banned the use of magic or magical transportation in Privet Drive, so the Order had developed a plan that only involved potions, broomsticks and thestrals.

It consisted in making some members of the Order impersonate Harry, thanks to Polyjuice potion, to act as decoys. Harry, with a shrinking potion and under the Invisibility Cloak, would leave the house through the sewer system of Little Winghing until they were far enough, when they could use a Portkey to get to the safe house.

The most difficult part had been getting Harry to cooperate. He had refused completely to let the Weasleys risk their lives for him. He had told everyone that he had caused them enough suffering, and that he preferred to die rather than let them lose another member of their family. But, in the end, Kingsley and Mad-Eye had physically grabbed Harry to take a few hairs from him. Even with Kingsley's strength, it had not been easy. Harry had not been happy about it, and even after that, had told them that he would not do what they wanted. But then Fred had spoken:

"We're going to impersonate you. We're going to risk our lives, all of us, including your girlfriend —"

"She's not my —"

"Shut up!" had yelled Fred. "We know enough of that! Just stop being noble and selfless now, when it's too late! Get safe soon, and, if you want to repair some of the damage you've caused, do what you have to do and finish this war so we can live safely. You owe us at least that."

And Harry had stopped complaining and had done as told. And the plan had worked really well, although the Death Eaters had not been fooled by the false date of the rescue the Order had dropped. The five people impersonating Harry — Mundungus Fletcher, Fred, George, Hermione and Fleur — and their protectors — Moody, Mr Weasley, Lupin, Kingsley and Bill — had been chased across the skies while Tonks escorted Harry through the sewers to the outskirts of Little Winghing. Once there, under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry and Tonks had mounted on his broom and had flown, close to land, and Tonks had sent the signal to the others. Upon seeing it, the five Harry's and his protectors had Disapparated, and Harry and Tonks had used their Portkey, far from Little Winghing, to go to Tonks' parents' house.

Nobody had died that day, though George and Mad-Eye had been severely hurt, and that was the most important thing. The chase had not been long enough for that, fortunately. Harry and Hermione had spent that night with Ted and Andromeda Tonks, and next day they had left and headed for the Black house in number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Some members of the Order had advised Harry against it, but Harry didn't want to be a problem for anyone. And when Hermione had pointed to him that Snape could get in there, he had looked at her with a sad look and had replied, "It would be fun, two traitors confronting each other."

So they had moved there, and had spent the first day exploring the house silently, realising that someone had been there, apparently searching for something. And that first night, Harry had camped in the drawing room, but Hermione had gone to the old room she had shared with Ginny.

And while she was in bed, she had started thinking.

She still had those feelings for Harry. No matter she didn't want to have them, they were there. And yet, there was still another part who wanted to get away from him, a part that was the reason she had gone to that room. And she had started to cry, because she had realised how incredibly stupid she had been, and that her mother was right, that feelings didn't go away so easily. Brightest Witch of her Age, she had thought bitterly. Most Foolish Witch of her Age was a much better definition.

But after a few hours, she had gone back to the drawing room with her sleeping bag, because she simply couldn't sleep in that room, couldn't bear the loneliness that reminded her so much of the hotel and her empty house. The only truth was that she had only Harry now. He was the only person in her life.

And next day, Harry had called her to Sirius' brother's room, whose initials were R.A.B., and, thinking that he could be the mysterious person who had taken the locket from the cave, he had called Kreacher, who had confirmed their suspicions. And after finding out that Mundungus Fletcher had stolen the locket from the house, they had sent Kreacher to fetch him.

That night, while they were in the darkness in the drawing room, Harry had heard her cry, and, after asking her what the matter was, she had broken down and told him everything: what she had done to her parents, the night she had spent in the hotel, the lonely and miserable days at her empty house, and they, both crying their misery, had hugged, and those feelings, again, had overcome them, and they had ended up kissing for the second time. The tension, the desire, was still there. And though unwanted, those feelings, and each other, were now the only things that had resemblance of something good, the only thing that offered some comfort.

They had never — neither that day nor the following months — discussed their relationship or what they were. They simply _were_; two miserable people who couldn't help being in love and who'd only got each other.

And the following days, she had noticed that that tension, that overwhelming feelings, were getting stronger. She didn't like that. She had tried to focus on her books, on her research of means to destroy horcruxes, and didn't like that she could not think clearly. It was as if nothing else was so important as being with Harry, and that was just _ridiculous_! When she was with Ron, her feelings for him were part of her life, complemented every aspect of her being. What she was feeling now wasn't like that. It was odd, it was ... _unhealthy_.

Four days after their kiss, on Harry's birthday, she had woken up feeling even stranger. She didn't know what it was. For a fact, she and Harry had shared a passionate morning kiss, something they didn't use to do. She had felt ... a bit dizzy, as if she couldn't think clearly about the things she had to do. She felt the need to get closer to him, as if nothing else in the world was important.

And while they were having breakfast, Kingsley had surprisingly fetched them, telling them they were required in the Ministry of Magic. Shocked, and a bit afraid, they had gone there and the Minister had given them the snitch and the book Dumbledore had left them in his will.

Then, back in Grimmauld Place, Hermione had started to read the book, but it had been impossible for her to focus on it. She felt an incredible tension, as if she were a boiling pot again, ready to explode. Harry was reading another book, and she couldn't help glancing at him. He looked as uncomfortable and tense as her.

And, in the evening, after a gloomy dinner, they had kissed, sort of a 'happy birthday' kiss, though it could be hard to imagine an unhappier day. And that tension had been too much, the lust accumulated since June had dominated them, the boiling pot had exploded ... and they had ended up in Harry's bed.

And a few hours later, she had found herself still thinking, unable to sleep, because —

Well, because it hadn't been as it was supposed to be.

Was she content? Yes. Part of her was. Was she happy? No. That first time had been liberation to all the repressed feelings, to all the tension, to all the lust and that strange love. But something worried her, something was not right. And a question kept nagging her, a question for which she had no answer.

Where was the smile?

She remembered Ron, that day when they had almost done it, in that classroom. Now that she had done it, she regretted, more than ever, not having done it with Ron, not having shared her first time with him. How was that? How could she be in love with Harry, and still want to have shared such a meaningful thing with another person? Did she still loved Ron? Was she, simply, completely insane?

The smile ...

That day, after feeling Ron's hands over her, caressing her, loving her, she had been all smiles, she had gone to bed grinning like the Cheshire cat, feeling so happy she could have flown without a broomstick. It was true that these were not very happy moments, with Ron gone and them being alone and hated, but Ron had been able to make her smile, and laugh, even during the worst times, even when something terrible was reported in the Prophet, even when Muggles were killed and she worried about her parents.

So, having made love with Harry, if she loved him ... Where was the smile?

She had fallen asleep thinking about that, about that question; a question which would haunt her during the months to come.

And next day, while they had a silent dinner, both of them thinking that, at the same time, the Weasleys were celebrating a wedding, Kingsley had sent a message to them, announcing Scrimgeour's death and the fall of the Ministry, and they had understood that they were now completely alone, the last hope against Voldemort and the new regime, and that they couldn't keep worrying about what had happened, because, despite being just teenagers, they had the weight of the world upon their shoulders. They would have to fight, and what they shared was the only thing that could keep both of them sane; the only thing to fight for; the only thing that could give them some comfort. And for the first time they both had been grateful for not being at The Burrow. What would have happened to the Weasleys had they been there when the Death Eaters had crashed the wedding?

But then, next day Kreacher had come back, with Mundungus, and they had discovered the location of the locket. For the first time, they had good information, something to do, something to plan. A purpose, and both of them had devoted completely to it.

Sighing, she rolled over the bed, still crying, and could not help thinking again about what they had had with Harry during those months.

They had not made love again until the night before their incursion to the Ministry. And that was strange, taking into account the intensity of the feelings, the lust and the tension they had felt before the first time. But after that, it was as if their sexual tension had been released, as if the boiling water inside the pot had evaporated, and that lust they had felt had started to vanish. Their love was still there, yes, it had lingered longer, but they had preferred just to embrace silently and share affection and comfort.

But that night before the incursion, after discussing the plan, they had felt content, with a goal. They had a plan, they had a purpose, they had a guide. They were, finally, doing something. But it was true that they could die the next day, that everything could end, and so, needing human comfort, some love, some reassurance, they had fallen in bed again ...

Wiping away her tears, she looked at the ceiling. Everything seemed an odd dream now. During those weeks at Grimmauld Place they had lived behind a shield, inside a bubble, as if they were happy — and she had believed they were, at some point, before Ron was back, when they had been so miserable after the Godric's Hollow fiasco — but the truth was that they hadn't been, not really. They had had love, and company, and a purpose, but there had not been laughter, or jokes, or the wonderful things she had associated to being happy and in love after her months with Ron. There were no smiles, or private jokes like the ones she had shared with Ron. And yet, she still believed that she and Harry had been in love. But it seemed that Ron's love had affected her whole life, while what she had felt for Harry had affected only part of it.

She still didn't understand what had happened, how could she had fallen in love with him.

They had made love two times in two months. Two teenagers that were alone in a house. Was that normal?

After the break in, they had done it once more, feeling for the first time exhilarated, because for the first time in months, they had done something good, something right. They had retrieved the locket, and they had saved a lot of people from the Ministry.

Then, they had done it once more, approximately at the end of October. And it had been all. Four times. And now, just remembering that made her feel disgusted. Now, she felt that those four times were four times too many. It should have never happened.

One day, in a cold day at the beginning of November, they had gone together to bed, seeking warmth, and she had conjured new flames. They had shared a kiss, and their hands had started to seek the other, but then they had looked into each other eyes, and they had simply stopped. They had held their gazes for a while before lying down on the bed, both looking at the ceiling, saying nothing. There was nothing in her heart anymore. There was still a need for comfort, miserable as they were, but Harry could not give that to her anymore. In fact, he had never been able to, but something inside her had believed he could. One part of her had been content, maybe happy, with him, but just one part. And now that part was definitely gone.

Ron had been able to make her happy in each and every aspect of her life.

That had been the moment when they had realised that, whatever had happened between them, was definitely over. But they had never discussed it, like every other aspect of their relationship.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door, though it was very early. Wiping away her tears once more, she said out loud, "Come in!"

The door opened and Ron walked in, closing the door behind him.

"Good morning," he said.

"Ron? Has something happened?" she asked, worried.

"All's well," Ron said. "I noticed you were awake and decided to come." He stared at her intensely, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. "Have you been crying again?"

"I was remembering," she explained.

"You should rest and stop doing that. There's no point in dwelling on the past," he commented, and sat down on the chair.

"I dreamt about it," she said, staring back at him. "About last June."

Ron kept looking at her, emotionless. "And?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

"I don't know what more can I say."

"Don't say anything."

Hermione stared directly at his blue eyes, wondering how many secrets lay hidden behind them.

"I was happy with you, Ron, very happy. The happiest I've ever been in my life," she blurted out. She knew there was no point in telling him that, but she had to. She _needed_ to.

"I was happy, too."

"You told me you wished you had never met me."

"You hurt me, Hermione. Too much."

"I know," she said, feeling the tears stinging again in her eyes. "I know. Do you still … wish that?" she asked, afraid of the response.

"No," Ron answered. "As I've told you, I don't care anymore. So there's no point in wishing that. You're a very interesting person and an incredible witch."

And that was all: an interesting person and an incredible witch. But what did she expect? Did she deserve anything more? Of course not. In fact, maybe just 'an interesting person' was already too much.

"When Ginny told us that you had left I thought I'd faint, that I wouldn't be able to endure the pain," she commented. There was no visible reaction in him, so she kept talking. "Ginny never showed us the letter, though. I never knew what you told her."

"That's what you want?" asked Ron. "You want to read that letter?"

"I — I don't know," she responded, fiddling with her blankets. "Maybe."

"If you want to read it, I can give it to you. But you won't gain anything by doing so. You should go on with your life, Hermione. You should stop punishing yourself. That won't change anything."

"You have it?" she asked, ignoring his advice, because she deserved punishment.

"No, but I can do magic," he said. "I can get it back."

"You don't mind me reading it?"

Ron shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Do it, then. I want to read it."

"As you want," he said. He took his wand from his pocket, waved it, there was a brief flash of light, and a piece of parchment appeared above Hermione's hands. She took it and looked at it for a moment. Now that she had it in her hands, she was unsure.

"I'm going out," he said, getting to his feet. "See you later."

"You don't have to go," she said, almost pleadingly.

"Goodbye, Hermione," he replied, ignoring her plea and exiting the room.

Sighing, she looked down at the letter in her hands, took a deep breath and began to read.

_Dear Ginny:_

_I want to say that I'm sorry for what I'm about to tell you, but I expect that, once you know what happened, you'll understand and won't hate me._

_Since I came to Hogwarts, my friendship with Harry and Hermione has been the thing I've valued the most in my life. At least, until Hermione became my girlfriend. We're not precisely rich, as you know, and I'm not the most brilliant student or the best Quidditch player around, but I had them. It took a long time for me to realise this, but, having them, and the family, alive, safe and with me, is everything I need in my life._

_But the day before yesterday I realised I lost that, Ginny. The day before yesterday, I found Harry Potter, my supposed best friend, snogging Hermione, my supposed girlfriend, in a deserted corridor as if they were on their honeymoon. I saw my best friends, the people I'd give my life for, betraying me. It hurt, Ginny. It hurt more than I can tell. It hurts just writing it. Everything Hermione told me since the beginning, everything I believed, it's a lie. She never cared about me. Who knows how many times did they have a snog session behind my back?_

_I tried to stand it, to be strong. I swear you that I tried, but I can't. Seeing them, embracing in the hospital wing, knowing that they're together while I'm alone, it's too much. It hurts so much I want to rip my heart out. I cannot be here, around them, anymore. I just can't._

_I'm sorry, Ginny, but I'm leaving. I won't take anything with me, for I need nothing. There's something I have to do, so I can go through this. I hate to do this now, when everything is a mess, but, in my state, I am no help._

_Perhaps, if everything goes well, I'll be back soon, but I cannot promise anything._

_Please, tell Mum and Dad. And tell Bill and Fleur that I am sorry, because surely I won't be there for their wedding. I wish them happiness, but, right now, I cannot believe in love. For me it's equal to pain._

_I'm sorry, Gin, but it's for the best. It's what I need, what I have to do. Please, don't hate me._

_I love you._

_Your brother, Ron_

Hermione was crying. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rip her heart out to not feel what she had done to Ron. But she deserved to feel it. She deserved to suffer it, because she had caused it. She had seen Ron's pain when he had found them kissing, she had seen it next day, in the hospital wing … but reading that letter, reading how hurt he was, how betrayed he felt, was something entirely different.

Why? Why had something like that happened? Why had she and Harry fallen in love, when never before had been anything more than friendship between them? Was it some sort of joke put up by fate, or destiny? Was not enough that they had to fight in a war when they were still teenagers that they had to suffer from heartache, too?

After a while, she got out of the bed and went to the bathroom to have a shower. After letting the hot water flood over her for ten minutes, she stepped out, got dressed and went to the window. It was snowing outside.

_What a beautiful day for the final battle_, she thought sarcastically.

Wondering if someone else had already woken up she went out of the room. She was surprised to find Harry walking back and forth the corridor with a thoughtful and serious expression on his face. He had bags under his eyes, as if he hadn't had enough sleep.

"Harry?"

He looked at her, a bit startled. "Oh, good morning, Hermione," he said.

"Good morning. What are you doing?"

"Thinking," he answered. "Where is Ron?"

"I don't know. He came to my room twenty minutes ago or so, but he didn't tell me where he was going when he left." She studied his face for a moment and remembered their last night discussion. "Why? What happened, Harry? Did you use that stone?"

"Of course I did," he responded bluntly.

"You did?" she asked. "Did it work?"

"It does," he said.

Hermione was now in awe. "Then — then you saw your parents?"

Harry nodded. "And Sirius too."

Forgetting their discussion, Hermione put a hand over Harry's arm, stroking it softly. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"We had a long talk," he responded.

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue.

"Dad was not pleased with what happened in June. Neither was my mum, or Sirius. No, they weren't pleased," he explained, the pain evident in his voice. "Loyalty to friends was one of the most important things for Dad and for Sirius. They should have given me a hard lecture. I needed them to. I told them I was sorry, that I was ashamed, that I had not lived up to their — their expectations," he finished, sobbing.

"Oh, Harry ..." Hermione said. "What did they tell you?"

"That it was not them who I had to apologise to; that, in fact, time for apologising was over; that I had to stick to Ron, be at his side, no matter he didn't want, or accept, my apologies. They told me that I should stand by his side." Harry wiped his eyes and his cheeks.

Letting out a scream and a wail, he punched the wall with his bare fist.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled. "Are you mad?"

Harry let out a few more sobs. His knuckles were bleeding.

"You're bleeding!"

"I know," he replied dryly.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"Did you talk about anything else?" she asked, a bit shyly. "I understand if you don't want to tell me."

"Despite everything, they seemed ... Well, they told me they were proud of me," he added. "But they shouldn't."

Hermione stared at him. "Yes, they should, Harry. They're _your parents_. Parents love their children, no matter what they do. We did something horrible, but I think we did a lot of good things, too. We saved people's lives. You saved people's lives: Ginny's, Mr Weasley's, Sirius', Ron's, mine ... those Muggleborns at the Ministry. We may be the worst friends in the world, but we did good things too."

Harry looked away, wiping his eyes once more.

"Yeah, they told me that, too. We — we talked about a lot of things," Harry continued, looking more composed now. "Some of them were … shocking, to say the least."

"Shocking?" Hermione repeated, curious.

"My mother lived in the same town as Snape when they were children."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, surprised.

"Yeah," nodded Harry. "He was the one who told her she was a witch. He was — he was her best friend until fifth year."

"Oh, Merlin, Harry …" Hermione sighed.

"Dad and Sirius humiliated him once, after their OWLs," Harry told her. "She tried to defend him and he called her 'Mudblood'. That was the end of their friendship. Dad told me that he — Snape, I mean — was in love with her."

Hermione was completely astounded. "In love? Snape was in love with your mother? And — and he — _sold_ her to Voldemort?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes, but Snape claimed that he didn't know the prophecy referred to me — to her. That's what Dumbledore told me." Harry stared at Hermione. "I think that was what made Snape betray Voldemort and join the Order."

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "Ron! Ron told Snape that — that —"

"— that _she_ would be proud of him, yeah," Harry finished for her. "I thought about that too." Harry seemed angry now. "He was talking about my mother. I had the right to know. Ron should have told me."

"He said you had the right to know, but it wasn't his secret to tell."

"He would have told me, before," Harry muttered.

"But now is not before," Hermione replied sadly. "What more did you talk about?" she asked. "Well, if you want to tell me. I'll understand if you don't," she added quickly.

"Family things, mostly," Harry answered. "And finally, about the war. About me being the 'Chosen One' and all that."

"But you're not," said a voice behind them.

Hermione whirled around and saw Ron. He had just stepped into the corridor, and was watching them from the corner.

"What is what I am not?" Harry asked, frowning.

"The Chosen One."

"What? The Prophecy —" Harry began to reply.

"The prophecy doesn't say anything about a 'Chosen One'"

Harry's frown intensified. "But it speaks about me. It says I must kill him —"

"I know what it says," Ron said. "And yes, the prophecy speaks about you, but if 'Chosen One' means a person destined to kill Voldemort, I have to tell you that there is no such 'Chosen One'."

"I don't understand," Harry said. "I mean, the prophecy —"

Ron sighed loudly. "You can't be destined to do anything, Harry," Ron explained, "because that would conflict with your Free Will. I remember you told us Dumbledore had explained about that."

"He did, but —" Harry seemed lost at words. "I don't understand."

Ron stared at them for a few moments. "Let's go for a walk outside," he proposed.

"What?" Hermione asked, startled, looking at the window. "Ron, it's ten to eight in the morning. And it's snowing."

"I like the snow," he said. "We can have breakfast in the Great Hall and then go outside."

"It's fine with me," said Hermione, shrugging.

Harry seemed more reluctant. "Only if you explain."

"I'll explain," Ron promised. He looked at Harry's knuckles. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," Harry said, avoiding looking directly at him.

"You're stupid, did you know that?"

Harry didn't say anything, and Ron, shaking his head, conjured a handkerchief and gave it to him. Harry took it, and, muttering 'thanks' wrapped his hand in it.

They walked to the Great Hall, which was empty, in silence, but, once they settled on Gryffindor table, Harry spoke, "I've used the Stone."

"I'm not surprised," Ron said, putting bacon on his plate.

"I know who 'she' is," Harry continued, staring at Ron.

Ron looked back at him, understanding what he was talking about. "It's your mother."

"You should have told me, Ron! I had the right to know that my mother and Snape had been best friends!"

"Yes, you had. But it was not my place to tell you."

Harry didn't seem to agree with this, but didn't insist. "Is there something more I had to know? Any more secrets?"

"Yes," Ron said frankly. "But we'll talk about it later."

Harry was open-mouthed. "There are? More?"

"Yes," Ron repeated, finishing his bacon. "We'll talk about it later, walking."

Harry didn't reply and kept staring at Ron. Hermione took advantage of the silence to ask him, "Why do you want to go outside with this weather?"

"I've told you, I like the snow." He gazed up at the enchanted ceiling, watching the snowflakes fall. "It feels like home," he added, with an odd expression. "I like to walk on the grounds. I've missed Hogwarts," he confessed.

Hermione didn't know what to say, so she resumed eating. When she and Harry had finished, Ron spoke again. "Let's go."

"I didn't take my cloak, or my gloves," Harry commented. "And it's freezing out there."

"Don't worry about that," Ron said, leading the group towards the front doors.

Outside was really cold, but Ron took his wand, waved it around and soon they were surrounded by some sort of invisible magical bubble that kept them warm. Ron resumed walking and Harry and Hermione followed him. Hermione looked around, and saw that it was snowing, and the wind was racing, but not around them. It was odd, but nice.

"Well, time to explain," said Harry after a while, breaking the silence.

Ron turned to them, saying nothing. Finally, after a few minutes, he spoke.

"As I've told you, there is no such thing as a 'Chosen One'. No one can be destined to do anything because it would go against Free Will. If you were destined to defeat him, then it would mean that you _will_ defeat him. And, as far as I know, nothing can make you do anything."

"Then I don't understand anything at all," said Harry. "Dumbledore said something like that, yes, but still … What's the use of a prophecy, then?"

"As I told Hermione two days ago, prophecies are related to a strange branch of magic. Beyond magic, even. They're related to Fate and Free Will at the same time, but I don't really understand them, or their purpose, because Fate has nothing to do with Magic, so I know nothing about it."

"Fate?" repeated Harry. "I don't believe in Fate."

"I does not matter if you believe in it or not. I don't know exactly what it is, or how it works. But I know, I _feel_, that there is ... some sense of purpose in the world."

Hermione frowned, confused. "Wait a moment; how can both Fate and Free Will exist? Those are two opposite things."

"Not exactly," said Ron. "I don't understand it myself completely. But I don't think Fate is what people usually think it is. Fate is like a guide, what you're supposed to do, or intended to do. _Intended_, not _destined_."

Ron turned and looked at the frozen waters of the Black Lake before continuing.

"Fate controls — or so I believe — the great schemes of things, of important things. Fate gives people the means to do what they're supposed to do, but it cannot make that people do them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think I do," said Hermione.

"Not exactly," answered Harry.

Ron looked at him. "That prophecy set you as the one with the power to defeat Lord Voldemort, but you are not going to do it. Do you understand now?"

"No," said Harry. "You told me I wasn't the Chosen One."

"And you aren't! Not in that sense. You _had the weapons for the job_, but you don't have to do anything! You must understand the difference! If Voldemort hadn't gone after you, you wouldn't have those weapons, you wouldn't be a threat!"

"So, the prophecy is rubbish, then?" Harry asked. "Did my parents die for nothing?"

"The prophecy is not rubbish," replied Ron. "By following it, Voldemort made himself vulnerable, he gave you the power to vanquish him. But now the prophecy has been already fulfilled, so you can consider yourself free of any burden you think you have over your shoulders."

"What?" asked Hermione in awe. She noticed that Harry was as surprised and confused as her. "Fulfilled? How? Voldemort's still at large!"

"The prophecy doesn't say that Voldemort will die, or that he will be defeated. A prophecy is fulfilled when everything it says becomes true. That has already happened, so it is fulfilled."

"Explain that," demanded Harry.

"As I told you, prophecies are mysterious and strange. A prophecy is made, or may be made, when something intended to happen is the most likely outcome of an event that will happen no matter what," Ron explained. "It's hard to understand, I know," he added, seeing the confused expression on Harry's face. "As I've said, I don't understand it completely. I don't know what exactly Fate is, after all."

"I think I've got it," said Hermione thinking hard. "Let's say, if Voldemort has to be defeated, then, if something that can lead to that result happens, it can become a prophecy. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are," said Ron, nodding, "though I don't know how that works. Look, every prophecy begins with something that is always true. The rest of it may happen or not, but the beginning of it must always occur. In this case, the truth in the prophecy is that the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approached, and that he'd be born at the end of July."

"But, if free will exists, how can the prophecy know I'd be born? And besides, you are forgetting the prophecy about Pettigrew and Voldemort I'd heard that evening in third year. If Free Will exists, then Pettigrew could have not escaped, and nothing in the prophecy would have become true."

"The unavoidable truth in that prophecy was not that Pettigrew would escape. If I remember correctly, it began with '_It will happen tonight'_, didn't it? That is the unavoidable truth there. Pettigrew escaped, as the prophecy said, but he could have been captured or killed. But, in any case, it would have occurred that night."

"But then, how can Free Will exist? I don't understand," said Harry, frustrated. Hermione didn't, either.

"Because Free Will operated _before_ the prophecy was made! What happened that night was the result of our decision to go and see Hagrid! We _had already decided_ it when you heard the prophecy! Listen: the Ministry decided to execute _Buckbeak_ before the prophecy was made. Hermione and I had already seen his letter. In that moment, we made up our mind. You had not heard it, yes, but that was not needed. Your decision to support and help Hagrid was made a long time ago. Once you knew what had happened, you'd want to go and so would we. That led us to finding _Scabbers_ and to everything that happened after that! Don't you understand? Our decision to go and see Hagrid that evening was what provoked the outcome of the prophecy! Therefore, the prophecy was made. But we had free will. We could have decided not to go to Hagrid's, and then nothing would have happened, and the prophecy wouldn't've been pronounced. Do you understand now?"

"Yes," said both Hermione and Harry.

"In the case of your prophecy, Harry, it is a bit more complicated, but it comes to the same: your mother was pregnant already, you were set to be born at the end of July. And when Dumbledore went to interview Trelawney, the prophecy could be fulfilled, so she made it. That prophecy required Lord Voldemort to heard part of it so it could become completely true. That was why it happened then and not after or before."

"But by then was not even clear who was the subject of the prophecy!" argued Harry. "It could have been Neville!"

"No, it couldn't!" replied Ron. "Don't you understand? As we had made our decision to go to Hagrid's even before knowing the result of the appeal, because we were his friends, so had Voldemort decided to pursue you if he had to choose, because of his own history! He had never had to face the choice, but he would have never chosen Neville! Neville could have never been the subject of the prophecy!"

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because the boy of the prophecy had to be marked as Voldemort's equal. The boy _had _to have the possibility of surviving! And Neville would have not survived the attack."

"How do you know that?" Harry wanted to know. "His mother would have made the same sacrifice mine did, I am sure."

"No," Ron said. "You don't understand. Your father died trying to stop Voldemort, Harry. He gave his life for you and your mother, but it didn't protect any of you! You survived because your mother _chose_ to die! Voldemort did not want to kill her, so, when she died willingly, only trying to protect you, not trying to fight him, she made a sacrifice that saved you. Your father could not have made it, because Voldemort wanted him dead! And he would have wanted Neville's parents dead, too! Your mother, Harry! She was the key point in the prophecy! She was part of that power you have!"

"But if that is how it works, how could I protect the innocents if I had decided to sacrifice myself to destroy the piece of soul inside me?" Harry asked. "He wants to kill me!"

"Because you would go willingly to face your own death," Ron explained. "And you wouldn't fight. Dying while fighting trying to survive is not a sacrifice, but dying willingly, giving your own life to save the lives of others, is." Ron made a brief pause, letting Harry and Hermione assimilate his words. "In the case of Neville's mother, Voldemort most likely would have attempted to kill her before attacking her son, so her death would not have been a sacrifice. But your mother, Harry, didn't have to die. So, when she put herself between you and Voldemort, refusing to stand aside, and not trying to fight, but just to change her life for yours, she protected you."

Harry remained thoughtful and quiet for a few moments.

"That's something I never understood," said Harry, rubbing his face with his hands, confused. "Why didn't Voldemort want to kill my mother? She was Muggleborn! He told me, when I faced him in first year, that she had not to die, but he never explained the reason."

Ron stared at him for a moment. "Well, you know the most of it, so it doesn't matter anyway …" he made a pause. "It was love. Love is the power the prophecy talks about. It's always love in this story." Harry looked back at Ron, not understanding. "Snape loved your mother. When he discovered that the information he had given Voldemort about the prophecy made him want to kill the Potters, he, desperate, asked him to spare her, and, as a gift for his services, loyalty and the information he had given him, Voldemort agreed to let her live."

Harry was astounded and shaking. Hermione was as surprised as him. "Snape — Snape asked Voldemort to let her live …" he muttered.

"Yes, he did," confirmed Ron. "That's why Neville's mother could not have protected him."

"So you're telling me I'm alive _thanks to Snape_?"

"In a way, yes."

Harry turned his back to them and stared at the lake, assimilating everything he had heard. Hermione, however, had more questions.

"I don't understand how the prophecy had been fulfilled. I mean, it says either must die at the hands of the other, and that has not happened."

"I'm pretty sure the prophecy meant Harry to kill or be killed by Voldemort. But, as I've told you, it was changed, tweaked."

"Changed?" repeated Harry, turning round to face them again. "By who?"

"By me," answered Ron. "At least, in part. The prophecy says either _must _die at the hands of the other. _Must_. It doesn't say 'either _will_ die at the hands of the other'. And you have been trying to defeat him, and he has been doing to same. That covers what 'must' means. So that part is fulfilled," he explained. "And for the change … Well, I have the 'power he knows not', the power he doesn't understand. But love is still the key point."

"I'm confused," said Harry.

"Snape's love protected your mother, and her love protected you. And your ability to love has protected you as well, all these years, from him and the influence of that piece of soul you have inside you. And finally, you both fell in love ... that caused me to feel so hurt that in the end I decided to leave, and after leaving, I learnt and changed, so now I am able to defeat him."

Ron fell silent, and nobody spoke for a while. Hermione stood there, staring at him open-mouthed, too shocked to say anything.

"You learnt and changed," she said.

"Yeah. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"How? Where?"

Ron didn't answer.

"Then that's all?" said Harry, in a shaky voice. "It's done? I don't have to do anything anymore?"

"Have to?" asked Ron. "You didn't have to do anything before! You fought Voldemort because it's right, not because someone was making you do it," he said. "Were you intended to fight him? Yes. But you did it because _you wanted _to. However, as I am now in charge, you certainly don't have to do anything."

"Then it's settled?" said Harry. "We wait until dusk, and then you defeat him, and it ends."

"Yes, something like that."

"Did I have any possibility?" Harry asked hesitantly. "If you hadn't ... become what you are?"

"Of course you had. Didn't I tell you? You can survive the Killing Curse while he lives! If you had sacrificed yourself, as I've explained to you yesterday, you'd have put an end to his ability to kill. There were no guarantees, though," he added. "You might have failed. I don't understand everything," he told them.

"So, there's no more 'The Boy who Lived' or 'The Chosen One'," commented Harry. After a few seconds he exhaled a sigh of relief and grinned slightly. "I'm just Harry Potter; just Harry ... at last."

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><p><em>Next chapter, on Tuesday. See you!<em>


	19. A Frosty Morning

_This is not the best chapter, more chat and a few more revelations, but it's needed!_

* * *

><p><strong>A Frosty Morning<strong>

Ron moved away from them, out of the limits of the area protected by his charm. The wind shook his cloak violently and ruffled his hair. Hermione watched him and thought that, in his black attire, he seemed a black hole in the untarnished surface of the snow covering the grounds.

"You should throw that stone away," advised Ron, suddenly, without turning round.

"What!" asked Harry, surprised. "Why?"

"It's dangerous," Ron said.

"No, it isn't," replied Harry stubbornly. "I used it yesterday and nothing bad happened."

"What do you plan to do, Harry?" Ron asked, this time turning to face him. "Do you plan to bring them back every night? That's not right."

"I don't plan to do that," he defended himself. "But I'd like to speak to them once more."

"You'll do that, and then you'll want to use it another time; and after that, another one. Throw it."

"Why is that a problem for you?" Harry retorted, angry. "You've kept saying, for the last two days, that you don't care about us."

"You're right," said Ron. "I don't care. You can do what you want."

"No!" protested Hermione. "Harry, Ron's right. You should stop using it! It's not right to bring them back. They don't belong in here," she argued, trying to make him see reason. "And Ron, you told me you'd take it from him if he abused using it!"

"What?" Now Harry was truly angry. "You're discussing me behind my back? You're no one to take anything from me. It is mine!"

"If I were you," said Ron, his voice now dangerous, "I wouldn't go accusing people of going behind others' backs. And, as I certainly don't care about what you want or not, or about what you think it's right or not, I'll take it from you if I want."

"You won't!"

"It's not right to fetch the dead," said Ron. "They won't want it. You'll make them suffer. Is that what you want?"

"I just — just want to talk to them, and see them," he said, his expression showing defeat and longing. "Is that so wrong?"

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"What do you expect, Harry?" Ron asked. "Some advice? Comfort? Do you think your parents, or Sirius, will tell you how to get my old self back?"

"No," replied Harry, a bit too quickly.

"_Yes_," said Ron. "Do you think I cannot feel it? It's always there, in both of you, right in the front of your minds, the guilt, the regret and the longing for what we had. But I don't care! I know you're sorry, I know you're full of remorse, but nothing can change the past. Go on with your lives! You're free, Harry. You've done your part. You saved people. Now stop trying to get forgiveness or redemption. I can't give you that. Nobody can mend what happened, Harry, neither the living nor the dead."

Hermione felt a new desire to cry, and saw that Harry was looking at Ron, shame reflected in his face.

"My parents told me I had to stick by you," Harry commented.

Ron looked at him for a moment.

"It doesn't matter to me, but, if it's so important for you, then do what is right, what I'm telling you: throw it away. Destroy it, because some things should not exist. Some things should not be done. And you know that, Harry. The Deathly Hallows ... they're extraordinary objects, but they should have been destroyed, or even never made. They've caused more harm than good. Look at yourself. You're acting irrationally, like when you discovered the Mirror of Erised. You've already become obsessed with the Stone."

"But my Cloak is one of them, isn't it? And it is a good thing."

"It is," said Ron. "Perhaps the only one of the three whose purpose is not something harmful."

"The other two are not good, then?" Hermione asked, curious.

"The Resurrection Stone, as you've seen, brings back the dead, only not really. There's three things that cannot be done with magic, no matter how powerful you are: create true life, reverse death, and create true feelings. Of course, the list is longer if you don't have a Source.

"Bringing back the dead goes against nature. It isn't right to do so. It was okay to use it to help you through your self-sacrifice," he added, turning to Harry. "But now ... you're using it selfishly."

Harry stared down at the snow, thoughtful.

"And the Wand?" asked Hermione.

"The Wand ..." Ron said, fidgeting with his own. "Surely you've heard about it," he added, looking at her. "It has been called by different names through the centuries: the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny ..."

"Oh!" said Hermione, now understanding. Effectively, she had read about those wands, supposedly immensely powerful, in _History of Magic_. But Professor Binns seemed to think that it was a legend, that those wands were normal wands, only owned by dark wizards that boasted about them. "Yes, I've heard of them. They're the same wand, then?"

"They are," nodded Ron. "That wand passes to another wizard when it is taken by force; usually, by murdering the previous owner. It's powerful, immensely powerful, and therefore, immensely dangerous. It has never been used for anything good ... until his last master won it, at least."

"His last master?" repeated Harry. "Where is it now?"

"Exactly there," said Ron, pointing to the Marble Tomb near the lake, where Dumbledore's corpse rested.

"Dumbledore!" exclaimed Harry, completely surprised. "_Dumbledore had the Elder Wand?_"

"He won it in his duel against Grindelwald, more than fifty years ago," explained Ron.

"You _mean_ that the most powerful wand lies here, unprotected?" asked Harry, dumbfounded. "What if Voldemort had taken it?"

"I suppose that, at some point, he would have, once he knew about it and about where it was. But don't forget that the most powerful wand in history is this one," he added, raising his. "However, it is not that simple. You can use any wand at all — again, this one is the exception — but to use the full potential of a wand, you must be the rightful owner. That only happens when the wand chooses you, or when it is won from its previous possessor. Taking the wand from Dumbledore's tomb won't make you its rightful owner, so you won't be able to unleash its full power."

"Then Snape is the true master of the wand?" asked Hermione. "He killed Dumbledore ..."

"No," replied Ron. "Dumbledore arranged his own death with Snape. Snape didn't beat Dumbledore. I reckon Dumbledore wanted the power of the Wand to disappear with him. If he died undefeated, no one could win the wand from him. But something failed in Dumbledore's plan."

"Draco," piped up Harry, understanding reflected on his face. "Draco Malfoy Disarmed him!"

Ron nodded.

"Then, Malfoy is the true Master?" asked Hermione, horrified by the idea.

"No," said Ron. "I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

"You!" bellowed Harry, surprised and confused. Hermione felt the same way, but then, everything made sense suddenly.

"You defeated him! You took his wand the day we came to Hogwarts!" she yelled.

"Exactly. I overpowered him, so the wand is now mine."

"But Malfoy never touched the wand, did he?" argued Harry. "How can you be its master, then?"

"That wand knows no loyalty. It only serves the most powerful wizard. The moment I beat Draco, the wand recognised me as the stronger, most powerful of the two, and so it chose me as its master."

"You are saying that you own the two most powerful wands ever made?" asked Hermione, staring at him in awe.

"I do."

"And what are you going to do with the Elder Wand, then?" Harry wanted to know.

"Nothing. I'm going to leave it where it is. As I said before, that wand is too dangerous, too tempting. It should have never been made."

Hermione nodded. She agreed. Besides, the idea of taking the wand from Dumbledore's tomb was repulsive to her.

"But you made a more powerful one!" said Harry.

"Yes, but my wand cannot be won. No one can take it from me, as you saw when Dolores Umbridge tried to use it, so no one can use it for evil purposes."

"But if you — if you are defeated, then the wizard or witch who does it will be the true master of the Elder Wand, won't they?" asked Harry.

Ron stared at him for a moment. "Yes. But there is no one in this world that can defeat me, so you don't have to worry about that."

Ron turned around once more, again looking away from them. Hermione stared at him, wondering how he had become what he was now, wondering where he had gone after giving Ginny that letter ... but too afraid to ask. She looked at Harry, and saw that he was staring at Ron, too.

"Throw the stone, Harry," said Ron. "Throw it."

Harry rummaged in his pockets and took out the ring with the stone. Hermione looked at it. The Resurrection Stone had the symbol of the Deathly Hallows on it, and it had cracked along the line representing the Elder Wand, probably, when Dumbledore had destroyed it.

"How did Dumbledore destroy the horcrux?" asked she, looking at Ron. "Do you know?"

Ron turned towards them and stared at the ring for a moment, narrowing his eyes, as if he was seeing something that had happened in another place, or in another time. "He used Gryffindor's Sword," he said at last.

"Gryffindor's Sword?" repeated Harry, confused. "It can destroy horcruxes?" His eyes widened with sudden understanding. "That's why he left it to me in his will!"

"Yes," Ron nodded. "He hid the true one, and replaced it with a fake. The only one who knew was Snape. It was the other mission Dumbledore entrusted to him — give you the sword as soon as possible, so that you had a weapon against the horcruxes."

"But he didn't," said Harry. "We spent months with the locket!"

"He didn't know how to find you. I have to admit that Dumbledore relied a bit too much on chance in this matter," commented Ron.

"Yeah, I think that, too. Why didn't he give it to me when he was alive? Or, at least, he should have told me it could destroy horcruxes."

"But _why _can it destroy horcruxes?" wondered Hermione. "I mean, it's made of metal, isn't it? Breaking a horcrux is not enough to destroy it."

"It can destroy horcruxes since Harry ran a basilisk through with it," explained Ron. "The sword is goblin-made, and goblin-made objects have the quality of imbuing the strengths of anything that touches them. That sword was covered in basilisk venom, so now it has the same properties as basilisk venom. And, as you very well know, basilisk venom can destroy horcruxes."

Harry sighed. "Dumbledore could have made this much easier," he lamented. "Why had he to make it so difficult?"

"With the sword, I think that, perhaps, he didn't count on dying that night, when you came back from that cave. Perhaps he counted on telling you as you destroyed it, if you got the locket," Ron hazarded. "But with the Deathly Hallows ... I think he was afraid that, if you knew what they were too soon, you would become obsessed with them, forgetting your actual mission."

"Obsessed?" asked Harry, frowning.

"Yes. You have a good heart, Harry. But you're too impulsive sometimes. Like I was, too. Before." He paused. "The Deathly Hallows are dangerous, I've already told you that. A lot of people have become obsessed with them. The legend promises that the wizard or witch who reunites the three Hallows will become Master of Death."

"Master of —?"

"Yes, Master of Death; vanquisher. Immortal or invincible, in short."

"And it's true?" asked Hermione, not liking at all how it sounded.

"No, it isn't," said Ron. "You can't stop death by possessing an object. But certainly, the possessor of the Hallows would be powerful. A lot of people consumed their lives searching for them. Dumbledore didn't want you to be obsessed with the idea of being Master of Death. I guess he only wanted you to discover what the Resurrection Stone was, so you could go through your self-sacrifice readier."

Harry stared again at the stone lying on his palm.

"Throw it, Harry. Ron's right, those objects are dangerous. Throw it," Hermione requested. "Please."

Harry closed his eyes and clenched his fist, clutching the ring inside it.

"Can you destroy it?" he asked Ron. "Can you destroy its power?"

Ron nodded.

With a great effort, Harry outstretched his arm and opened his hand. The ring rose in the air and flew towards Ron. He took his wand and touched the ring with its tip the moment it reached him. There was a flash of something that could only be described as black light, and the stone dissolved in a cloud of smoke.

"It's done."

"Good," said Hermione, smiling at Harry. "You've done the right thing, Harry."

"Yeah, sure," he said sadly.

"You should go inside now," piped up Ron.

Harry and Hermione looked at him. "Why?" she asked.

"There are things I have to do."

"What things?"

"Things," said Ron, clearly stating that he wouldn't say more.

Having learnt to accept Ron's suggestions — or orders — both of them said 'goodbye' and, together, headed for the castle, the spell cast by Ron protecting them from the weather until they reached the front doors. Once there, Hermione turned her head and stared at Ron, who was standing in the same spot where they had left him.

"He showed me the letter," she said without thinking.

"What letter?" Harry asked.

"The one he sent Ginny last June."

"Oh!" said Harry, surprised. "Really? Why?"

"I asked him to."

"And he did?" asked Harry, astounded. "I thought he didn't want us to see it."

"I suppose he showed me because he doesn't care."

"Was it ... bad?" he asked hesitantly.

Hermione nodded. "He was in such pain, Harry... That night in the hospital wing, after Dumbledore's death ... it killed him seeing the way we hugged. He thought that we were together and —" she shook her head.

Harry remained silent, pain and guilt clearly visible on his face. "Let's go to the common room, okay?" he suggested dejectedly, and she nodded.

The common room was almost empty, but Ginny and the twins were there, sitting near the fire and playing a game of exploding snap.

"Good morning," said Harry and Hermione, when the three Weasleys moved their heads to look at them.

"Good morning," they answered in return.

"Isn't Ron with you?" Ginny asked.

Harry answered, explaining where Ron was, but Hermione could only stare at Ginny's face, thinking about the letter, about what she must had felt after reading it ...

Then, she looked up at her and their eyes met.

"Hermione, why didn't you tell anyone what you were going to do to your parents?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"Eh?"

"While you were unconscious, Harry told us what you had done to them. That they're now in Australia, that they ... don't know who they really are or that they have a daughter."

Hermione shrugged. "It's something I had to do. What was the point in telling anyone?"

"Dad checked on them a few days after Harry's rescue," Ginny told her. "He was worried about them. What if the Death Eaters decided to abduct them to find out where you were?" Ginny explained. "But the house was empty. He asked the man who lives in front of your house, and he told Dad that they had left a few days before with all their belongings."

"Your dad checked on them?" Hermione said, deeply touched.

"We love your parents, Hermione. They had spent the previous Christmas in our house!" Ginny exclaimed. Hermione felt the sudden desire to cry. It was too painful to think about those wonderful days. "And you spent two days alone there! On your own! Why didn't you tell anything? The Death Eaters could have got you!"

"You hated me, and with good reason. I didn't want to be a problem. You should hate me even now. I'm fully recovered. There's no reason to pity me anymore."

"Yes, we didn't want you at The Burrow," George said. "But Tonks would have accepted you in her house. Or Kingsley. We were angry at you, and disappointed. We still are. But that doesn't mean we wanted you to be on your own while Death Eaters were at large. We considered you family once, that's not easy to forget, despite what you did. If Percy were truly sorry and needed us, we would accept him back. _We're family! _And you were, too. It does not matter we don't share blood."

Hermione didn't know what to say. There could not be a better family than this one, that's was for sure.

"Do you want to ... play?" asked then Fred.

"Yeah, why not?" said Harry. "Hermione?"

The truth was that she didn't really want to, but thought that she should.

"So, Ron didn't tell you what he was going to do?" asked Fred conversationally, after two rounds of silent playing.

"No," answered Harry. "I suppose it has something to do with what's going to happen this evening."

"Do you think he can really beat him?" Fred enquired, and looked at Harry. "Aren't you the Chosen One and all that?"

"According to Ron, I'm not. He says that I don't have to do anything."

Ginny stared at him, surprised. "You aren't?"

Harry shook his head and smiled. "No. And I'm not the least bit sorry," he said. "Ron is the extraordinary one now," he added.

"Yeah, he is," said Ginny unhappily.

They kept playing, and were soon joined by Neville, Seamus and others, something Hermione was grateful for, because there was still some tension there. Some of them were eager to discuss Ron, Harry and Hermione's travels and what was going to happen, but Hermione was not very talkative. She wanted to talk to Ron, to know, to ask the question she was dying to ask ... the question she knew she shouldn't ask.

After almost three hours, she stood up and walked to the window, to see if Ron was still out there, in the grounds, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The rest seemed to have got tired of the game, too, so Fred took the cards and put them in his pocket. Harry stood up and joined her on the window.

"Looking for him?" he asked in a low voice.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know what I am doing."

"Yes, you do," he affirmed, and glanced at Ginny, who was resting against an armchair, deep in thought.

"Talk to her."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Talk to her, Harry. Tell her the truth. I hid the truth once, thinking that it would prevent bad things from happening. It turned out the other way around."

"I don't know. She doesn't trust me, you told me that," he replied, sighing.

"That's why you should talk to her. Tell her everything, the whole truth, if she wants to hear it. That's what we have to do."

"I don't want to hurt her — them — even more. She's better off without me."

"Do you really believe that?" Hermione asked. "Does she look happy, or all right, to you?"

Harry didn't answer. "I don't deserve her."

"Maybe not. But that's her choice, and you don't have the right to make it for her."

"I won't do anything without talking to Ron."

"Ron told you to go on with your life."

"Yeah, that's true ..." he said, nodding. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards Ginny and stooped beside her. She looked at him questioningly. "Ginny ... Can we talk? Just you and me?"

Ginny frowned, and stared at him for a few moments, considering his proposal.

"About what?" she said at last.

"Please," he begged.

Ginny gazed at him for a while. "Okay," she accepted, and the two stood up and, together, walked out the common room. Hermione saw the twins exchange worried glances.

"What was that?" Fred asked Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. "You heard them, they're going to talk," she answered, and then turned round again and continued looking through the glass.

o o o

It was almost lunchtime when Ginny and Harry came back. Hermione watched their faces with attention, but they revealed nothing. The twins looked at Ginny interrogatively, and she glared at them.

"What?" she asked, rather crossly.

"Nothing, nothing," answered Fred quickly.

"Ron has not come back yet?" asked Harry.

"No," said Hermione, who was still near the window.

Ginny went to the door that led to the girls' dormitories and disappeared through it. Harry approached Hermione.

"Do you want to ... talk?" she asked, hesitantly, in a low voice.

Harry didn't answer immediately. He stared away, out of the window, for a few moments before looking back at her.

"I told her everything," he said. "Everything that happened last year, since I began to see her differently. I told her what happened in June, and we talked about what happened during the summer, too."

"And?" she asked, a bit anxious.

"She listened to me, mostly," Harry responded. "And when I finished, I told her that I still — or _again_ — fancy her, but that I didn't expect anything from her."

"And?" Hermione repeated, curious. "What did she said?"

"She told me that she understands that nobody can control what they feel, but that we should have told Ron the truth, no matter how hard it was. She told me that, even if the kiss was a mistake, it had happened."

"I see," said Hermione sadly.

"Well, she's right, isn't she?" Harry commented, staring out of the window again. "We should have done that. So she told me that, although she had accepted what happened, it was not enough. She said that she would try and be friendly, but treat us like trustworthy friends? No, not for now."

Hermione looked at Harry. "The only thing you can do is trying, and trying, and then try again, and prove it to her," she indicated. "Are you willing to do that?"

"Anything," he said. "I don't want to feel miserable anymore, Hermione. For the first time, I have a real hope of a future; for the first time in Merlin knows how long, I don't feel that burden over me." A sad smile appeared on his face. "It's ironic that is Ron who brings me this freedom, after what I did to him," he commented. "But there's nothing we can do to change the past. If there were, I'd do it, but there isn't."

"I'm glad to hear you saying that," Hermione said, and this time was she who broke their eye contact to look at the snowy trees of the Forbidden Forest through the glass. A moment later, she felt a gentle touch on her right shoulder, and looked back at Harry, who was eyeing her intensely.

"I'll do everything I said," he told her, "only if you promise me you'll do the same. That you'll fight too."

"Fighting is pointless in my case, Harry. You know it."

Harry gripped her shoulder harder, and get a bit closer to her. "Talk to him, Hermione. You said so: that White Light felt like love, didn't it?" She nodded, reluctantly. "Then ask him. Fight, Hermione, because if someone can get something out of Ron, it's you. Even if he can't forgive us, if we can get the old him back at least the Weasleys will be happier. Perhaps we don't deserve Ron, but they do." He paused for a moment. "And promise me that, if you don't succeed ... you'll try to move on."

Hermione felt a lump form in her throat, and noticed Fred and George, and some more people, watching them. She looked out of the window again.

"There's no moving on for me, Harry."

"Hermione —"

"No, Harry. For me, it's either Ron or no one. Please, don't insist."

He didn't.

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><p><em>Next chapter, on Friday!<em>


	20. Before the Storm

_Here it is, a day before planned. I'm not sure if I can post tomorrow, so ... The action you're all waiting is not here yet, but it's coming! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It answers a few questions that had been nagging you for ages, but, of course there are new questions as well._**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Before the Storm<strong>

Ten minutes later, Ginny came back to the common room, and found the twins, Harry, Hermione and Neville sitting by the fire, talking again about what was going to happen that evening.

"Don't you think we should evacuate Hogwarts?" Neville was asking, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I mean, there are first and second years here ..."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea," said Harry.

"Ron thinks he can beat them all, without help. I suppose he doesn't believe they can enter the castle," said Hermione.

"But he can make mistakes," replied Harry, concerned, looking at her. "Remember what happened at the Ministry. You could have died there!"

The memories of what had happened made Hermione shiver. She didn't say anything.

"Perhaps we should suggest it," proposed Ginny. "Do you know what exactly he is planning?" she asked, addressing Harry and Hermione. "Did he tell you if he plans on confronting them at the gates, in the Entrance Hall, in the grounds ...?"

"No," Harry answered. "He didn't tell us anything of that sort."

"In any case, the Slytherins should be watched, some of them could try to help the Death Eaters," piped up Fred.

"I'm sure Ron has thought about that," said Hermione. "I'd say he scared them pretty badly yesterday evening."

They fell silent as some of the Gryffindors began to exit the common room to go to the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione saw Ginny watching them.

"Let's go have lunch?" Ginny suggested. "I'm sure Mum and the others will be there."

They nodded silently, and standing up, they headed for the Great Hall.

Mrs Weasley was already there, with Bill and Fleur, and, surprisingly, Mr Weasley. Lupin and Tonks were there too. Ron, however, was not in the Hall.

"We didn't expect you to be here, Dad," Ginny commented, sitting down next to him.

"I wanted to be here, and Kingsley agreed," Mr Weasley explained. "Things in the Ministry are going smooth and if the Death Eaters are going to attack Hogwarts this evening, as Ron expects, I think this is the place to stay. Kingsley will come later, too."

"Speaking about Ron," Fred intervened. "Have you seen him?"

"Well, he contacted me and Tonks to send Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott and Amycus Carrow to the Ministry," answered Lupin, "but that was almost two hours ago."

"Did you send them to Azkaban?" Hermione asked.

"Amycus, yes; the others, not yet," said Tonks sternly. "They're held at the Ministry for interrogation. Nott was frightened, but the other, Crabbe, was especially rude and quite violent."

Hermione began to put food into her plate, and, as she started eating, watched Mrs Weasley carefully. She didn't seem as distressed as last night, but looked quite sad, and she didn't seem very hungry. Every few minutes, she turned her head towards the doors, probably expecting to see Ron.

The desserts had just appeared on the table when finally Ron came into the Hall, walking with long strides, his cloak billowing behind him. But, instead of moving towards them, he headed for the High Table. McGonagall stood up and bent over the table, undoubtedly believing Ron wanted to speak to her, but he didn't. Once he was there, he turned round and faced the entire Hall.

"Pay attention to me," he said coldly, his voice loud and commanding. The request — or order — was unnecessary: everyone was already looking at him since the moment he had set foot in the Hall.

"Yesterday's afternoon I delivered a message to that wizard who calls himself 'Lord Voldemort'," he explained, his eyes wandering over the four tables. "And this evening, at dusk, he'll come here, with what's left of his army."

The silence was broken by some yells and sighs of fear and terror. Hermione noticed that some students had paled, and others had begun to whisper frantically to their friends.

"He's going to kill us!" someone yelled from the Hufflepuff table.

Ron didn't say anything for a minute, silently observing the Great Hall. The sounds of whispers and conversations grew louder and louder, until he spoke again. "Silence!" he bellowed, and every whisper, every conversation, died at once and everyone focused their eyes on him. "You have nothing to fear," Ron added. "I'll take care of everything. You don't have to worry about anything."

Professor McGonagall, sensing that the students were still distressed, addressed Ron.

"Mr Weasley ... Ron," she began, unsure. "Perhaps we should think about evacuating the students."

Ron didn't even look at her. "No," he said, loudly.

"Why not?" asked a girl from Ravenclaw table. She seemed afraid, but, with effort, plucked up some courage and continued, "There are children here. This is not our war, our fight. We don't want to be in the middle of it."

Ron stared at her for a moment, narrowing his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was even colder than before. "This is not your fight? You don't want to be in the middle of it?" The poor girl who had asked flinched in her seat. "Of course this is your fight! Haven't you been tortured and cruelly punished by Death Eaters? How many of you had lost relatives because of Lord Voldemort? I'm sorry to tell you this," he said sarcastically, "but you _are already _in the middle of the war." He paused again and began to pace, slowly, in front of the High Table, his eyes fixed on the students. "I know there are children here. I'm perfectly aware of that. As I know that this place is a school, and you have come here to learn. That's why you're not leaving: because I want you to _learn_."

"Learn?" Ginny muttered, confused.

"I want you to learn who he is and what he is capable of; I want you all to remember this war, this fight, the people which have died in it. I want you to know how close you have been to lose everything," Ron explained vehemently. Hermione stared at him in awe, because since his return, she had never heard him speaking with such intensity in his voice. "I want you to remember the lies he spread and the threats he made. I want you to know what is right and what is wrong. So you're staying here, you're going to see it, to see him, and one day you'll tell you sons and daughters about him, so something like this won't happen again. Any questions about this?" he asked. Nobody dared to speak. "Perfect," he continued. "I want you to see, but, even though you think I don't, I do care about your wellbeing, so listen to me." He paused again, making sure everyone was paying him attention, and then resumed talking, "No one, under any circumstances, will leave the castle. You'll be allowed to go to your common rooms for a short time after lunch, and then, when you're called, you'll be back here. After the call, no one will be alone or outside the Great Hall without my permission. Is that clear?" A deathly silence was the only response. Ron seemed satisfied. "That's all, then."

Ron walked towards the Gryffindor table and sat down in the bench beside Harry. "Have you seen anything?" he asked him, without saying a simply 'hello'.

"No," Harry answered, shaking his head.

"Where have you been, Ron?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Here and there," Ron said vaguely, helping himself to a portion of chocolate tart.

"Are you sure about keeping the students here, son?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Yes, I am," Ron responded. "I'm not changing my views on that. They need to know."

A few minutes later, as soon as the students finished eating, McGonagall stood up. "The heads of house will escort you to your common rooms," she informed. "The prefects will ensure no one leaves them until you are called, okay?" She exchanged a look with the other heads of house and they also stood up. "Go on, then."

Slowly and in order, the tables were vacated. As the Gryffindors began to rise to follow McGonagall, Ginny looked at Ron. "We have to go, too, or are we _allowed_ to be out of Gryffindor tower?" she asked, frowning.

"You can go to the Guests Rooms if you want. Wait there for me," he said, and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"For a walk," he said.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, nervous. "Can I — can I go with you?"

"What for?" he asked, staring at her.

"I want to talk to you about something."

"Not now," he said.

"When, then?" she asked, anxious. She didn't know what was going to happen, and she needed to know, needed to ask before the battle.

"I'll go to the Astronomy Tower later. You can come then if you want. I'll fetch you in your room."

"All right," she nodded.

"Dad, Remus, Tonks, Mum, Bill, Fleur, Fred and George," Ron said, looking at the people he had named. "Patrol the corridors with the professors. I don't want any student wandering around."

"All right then," Lupin said. "We'll coordinate with McGonagall. Let's wait for her in the staff room."

The others nodded and left the Great Hall, so that only Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione remained there.

"What about us?" asked Harry. "What can we do?"

"You wait in your room. Since you decided you wanted to be able to monitor him, you can do that. You have my old wand, so you can alert me if something happens. Ginny can wait there with you, and Hermione too."

"I don't need a babysitter!" Ginny protested.

"Then snog Harry or do whatever you want, but stay there!" Ron exclaimed, leaving Harry and Ginny speechless. Hermione stared at Ron open-mouthed.

"Ron!" she scolded.

"What?" he said. "That's exactly what Harry wants, and Ginny wants it too. I don't know why you're making such a fuss about things that are so simple."

Harry blushed deeply. "That's not what I want!" he yelled. "Well, not — not exactly. I mean — that's not _all_ I want," he tried to explain, and lowered his gaze, embarrassed.

"I'm not going to snog anyone," Ginny said then, folding her arms tightly across her chest in an annoyed gesture, her face pink.

"Then talk, or sleep, or stay in silence," said Ron, "but stay there." And without another word, he walked away.

"What the hell does he think he's doing?" asked Ginny, furious and embarrassed, looking at Ron's back as he strode towards the doors.

"Forget it, Ginny," Harry said, still blushing, and stood up. "We'd better do as he told us and go to the rooms."

"You have good reasons to want to do everything he asks you to do, like if you were his house elf," snapped Ginny, "but I don't owe him obedience!" yelled Ginny, and then added, in a low voice, "It's him who left."

"It was our fault, Ginny. Only ours," Harry said sadly. "If you have to blame someone, blame us."

"I blame you, don't worry about that," Ginny said. "But he could have come home, with his family!" she huffed, and wiped away a tear. "Let's go," she said after a while, and got to her feet.

Together, the three of them went up to the guest rooms in silence. Hermione didn't know what to say, and Harry and Ginny were too embarrassed — and furious, in Ginny's case — to talk.

"Do you want to come to my room, then?" asked Harry shyly, once they were in the guest rooms' corridor.

"Later," said Ginny, and turned to Hermione. "Can we talk in your room?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione nodded, surprised. "See you later, Harry," she told him. Harry went into his room and Hermione opened her door, let Ginny go in before her and, after closing the door, sat down on the bed. Ginny sat on the windowsill.

"Harry and I talked in the morning," began Ginny, looking out of the window.

"Yes, I know," Hermione said.

"I'm sure he told you everything we talked about," she commented.

"More or less, yes."

Ginny turned her head and stared at Hermione. "I don't really want to have this talk with you, Hermione," she admitted.

"I understand," said Hermione. "Why are you doing it, then?"

"Because there's no one else to talk about it," Ginny confessed. "And because — well, I don't know. I don't want to stay angry forever, I suppose. What's the point in that?"

Warmth spread through Hermione's body. "Thanks, Ginny."

"Don't thank me," replied Ginny. She seemed angry, despite everything. "Harry told me everything what happened between you and him last June," continued Ginny.

Hermione nodded.

"I can understand why he didn't tell anything, Hermione. I mean, you were his best friend's girlfriend. He fell in love with you and couldn't help it. But you?" she asked fiercely. "You've always been sincere and honest, Hermione. Why did you hide something like that?"

Hermione lowered her gaze.

"I was stupid, Ginny. I have no defence, no excuses. I simply thought it would go away. The term was ending. I _believed _it would go away, because when I was with Ron I felt almost normal, the way I wanted to feel. It was wrong, I know it. But I wanted it to go away. I didn't want to hurt Ron, and if I had told him ..." she shook her head. "But in the end, it was worse," she finished, almost crying.

"That would have been a talk," Ginny commented with a sigh, "telling Ron you had fallen in love with Harry ..."

"But I should have done it!" she yelled, sobbing.

"Yes, you should," nodded Ginny.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm sorry for everything. I know it doesn't matter how m-many times I say it, but I'm s-sorry," Hermione cried. "What I did to your f-family ... Merlin, I can't understand it!"

"Me neither," said Ginny. "I saw you, Hermione, during those months. You two were ... well, simply amazing. I had never seen Ron, or you, so happy. And then ... this. That was what made me so angry. Not only that I thought that you had been lying to me about Harry, but that you had led Ron on just to break his heart later. When I read the letter he sent me, where he told me that everything had been a lie, I almost went mad."

"I know," said Hermione. "But it was never a lie, Ginny. I had never felt anything like that for Harry before. I was so happy with Ron ... God, just thinking about Harry that way now is _disgusting_! But I couldn't help it. I don't understand, and I never will. It's as if part of me couldn't stop thinking about him, despite the remorse and the guilt. I don't know why I didn't go completely mad."

Hermione looked up at Ginny and wiped away her tears. "I never wanted to hurt Ron, Ginny. Never. If I had known what I was going to cause, I — I would have left Hogwarts and never come back."

"I don't think Ron would have liked that, Hermione. You would have broken his heart if you had done that. You would have hurt all of us, the people who loved you."

"I hurt all of you, the people who loved me."

Ginny didn't reply, and Hermione lowered her gaze and didn't say anything more, because she didn't know what to say.

"You and Harry did good things, however," said Ginny after a few moments. Hermione looked up at her again. "When you saved those Muggleborns. That gave people hope. That gave us hope. We felt that you were trying to do what you had to. Dad and the Order helped a few of them escape the country, with their families. They were very grateful towards you."

"I suppose your father didn't want to hear that."

"One thing has nothing to do with the other, Hermione. The world is more important than any of us. And despite everything, we were glad to know you were all right."

"But you told me we weren't doing anything, the day we came back," commented Hermione. "You accused us of being on a honeymoon."

"That happened at the end of September," Ginny said. "After that, nobody knew anything more about you two. We were losing hope. And I got very angry when I saw you with Ron."

"You had every right to be angry. You should be angry right now."

"My anger won't solve anything," said Ginny. "You say you're sorry. I see you, and I believe you really are. Besides ... well, Ron told Mum and me that his decision to leave was only his, that you and Harry were not to be blamed for that."

"But we are," Hermione replied. "And I know it, and so does Harry. And you said it yourself. He left because he couldn't stand it, seeing that kiss, thinking that we were together, that our relationship had been a lie." Hermione remembered the letter, and lowered her head, feeling tears well in her eyes once more.

"That's true," Ginny nodded, serious. "And I told him that. It was him who said that he could have gone to The Burrow. But he didn't because there was something he needed to do. And —" she started to say, but stopped.

"And — what?" asked Hermione, raising her head once more.

Ginny hesitated.

"Ginny?"

"He said that we should forget what you did," Ginny said at last. "That you were sorry, really sorry; that you did care for him, despite what had happened; that you didn't want to hurt him; that you had said the truth and things had not happened the way he had told me in his letter; that your relationship with him hadn't been a lie. He told us that he didn't care, that it was in the past, that he was fine now, so we shouldn't care, either; he said that you were part of the family once, and that, if we cared about him, we would go on and forget, because the day would come when we would need you, and you us."

"What?" Hermione said, completely astonished. "When — when did he tell you that?"

"Yesterday, when Mum asked him to come to her room, before dinner."

"What did he mean with 'the day will come when we will need you, and you us'?" Hermione wanted to know, feeling that those words were a foreboding omen, a sign of something bad to come.

"He didn't tell us. He asked me to say the same to the others, and I did, when we went to Mum's room while Ron and you two talked in yours."

"Oh!" said Hermione, suddenly realising something. "When George told me that he was sorry, that you had told them things hadn't happened the way you all believed ... he wasn't talking about what I had told you, but about what _Ron_ had told you!"

"Yes," confirmed Ginny.

"Why didn't you say anything about this?"

"Because Ron said that we shouldn't tell you he had asked us that."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Why are you telling me now, then?" asked Hermione, looking at her.

"Because I am annoyed at him," said Ginny, with a scowl. "And because I am scared and I need to know if you understand the meaning of what he said."

"No," Hermione answered, shaking her head. "I don't know what that means."

Ginny looked out of the window again, worry etched upon her face.

"He didn't tell you what he had to do, did he?" Hermione asked after a few moments.

"No, he didn't," sighed Ginny, and her expression saddened. She lowered her gaze and sighed. "I want my brother back," she whispered.

"I want my best friend back, too," said Hermione. "Even if he doesn't want to see me ever again," she added, and a lonely tear ran down her cheek. "I know very well I don't deserve him. But I'd do anything to see him, the old him, back, even if he hates me and doesn't speak to me ever again."

"You said you loved him, yesterday," said Ginny.

"Yes."

"You thought that once, and you fell in love with Harry."

"I know. And, as I've said, I don't understand it. But now I'm even surer than last year, Ginny. I miss him, the way he could make me smile; the way he said 'everything'll be all right' every time I read that some Muggles had died and he made me feel better; the way he could infuriate me so much and next instant make me melt completely; the way he looked at me, with such intensity, and made me feel so flustered, so —"

"Stop, stop, stop!" said Ginny, raising one hand. "I get it. I don't need more details."

"Sorry," said Hermione, embarrassed. "I got a bit carried away."

"The more we talk, Hermione, the less I understand what happened."

"Yes, I know. But now I see him, and want all that: I want to hug him, and kiss him ... but, at the same time, he sends shivers down my spine; at the same time, he _scares me_."

They felt silent for a bit, both deep in thought, and then Ginny spoke again.

"Ron was right, you know. I still fancy Harry. I wish I didn't, to tell you the truth, but I do."

"Ginny, I know we talked about this yesterday. I thought you had the right to know, and that I had to help. But now ... maybe you should discuss this with a friend, not with me."

"You're the one whom I talked to about Harry. You're the one who've always given me advices."

"Yes, but after what happened —"

"Do you feel something for him?" asked Ginny, narrowing her eyes.

"No," answered Hermione. "No, I told you it is disgusting now. I haven't forgotten what happened, but I try to push it to be bottom of my mind. I don't want to think about it, I _hate_ that it happened."

"Then will you listen?"

Hermione stared at her for a few moments and then nodded.

"I fancy him, but I don't trust him. And it hurts me to say this, Hermione, because I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

"It's normal, after what happened, Ginny. Don't feel bad for that. I wouldn't trust him, or me, if I were you."

"It's hard, Hermione, to know that the person you've fancied almost forever fancies you back and you can't do anything, because you're too hurt."

"I've never experienced that, so I cannot tell you anything. But I imagine it must be hard, yes."

"I don't know what to do," said Ginny dejectedly. "Ron asked us to forget and go on. Part of me wishes exactly that. Part of me wants nothing more than to leave the sorrow, the pain, behind me. Behind us all. Yesterday, when I saw you in that bed, I knew that I still cared about you. When Dad told us that Harry had tried to get between Umbridge and Ron, I knew I still cared about him, despite everything. But how can I trust him again? How can I trust _you_ again?"

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"Make him earn your trust. If he deserves you, then he'll wait. If he deserves you, he'll do anything."

"How?" asked Ginny. "How can he earn my trust?"

"I don't know, Ginny. Doing the right thing, I suppose. Not making more mistakes. I don't know. Maybe it's impossible. You're the only one who can answer that."

Ginny looked at the floor, apparently deep in thought, for a while, but then raised her head again and looked at Hermione.

"It doesn't matter," Ginny said. "This is not the moment. After the war ... we'll see."

"Yes, we'll see."

"Because it is going to end, isn't it?" asked Ginny, looking afraid once more. "I want it to end. These past months had been horrible. The worst of my life."

"If Ron says it'll end, then it'll end. I have faith in him," Hermione assured, but the truth was that she was scared, too.

"Hermione, I'm afraid for him. I don't like how what he said to us sounds. What if ... what if he wins but — but something happens to him?"

"I'm afraid of that, too," said Hermione, starting to feel anxious. "But he's so powerful, Ginny. You saw what he can do. And ... and he won't be alone. I'll be with him, by his side."

"He said he would confront him on his own."

"I'll be with him, by his side," repeated Hermione, determined. "Nothing in the world will keep me away from him when the moment comes."

"Do you promise that?" asked Ginny, sounding a bit desperate. "I'd help, but I know that he, Dad, Mum and the others won't let me get near the battle. You say you love him. Do you promise me that you'll help him if he needs you? That you won't let anything bad happen to him?"

"I promise," declared Hermione. "I'd give my life for him, Ginny. Without hesitation. He deserves to live. He deserves to live much more than me."

Ginny nodded, and both girls locked eyes. And for a moment, despite what had happened, despite that they were no longer friends, Hermione felt a sudden connection with the other girl, a connection forged upon the fear and love they both shared for Ron.

After a few moments, Ginny tore her eyes away from Hermione's, and threw a new glance out of the window before speaking again.

"Hermione ... how does Ron know all those things?" she asked. "How did he discover Snape's secrets, or that I still fancy Harry?"

"I don't understand it completely," said Hermione. "But he can do some sort of incredibly powerful Legilimency. He can sense things, thoughts ... those things."

"He is so amazing now, and yet ... I'd exchange him for the old Ron in a heartbeat."

"Me too," said Hermione. "Me too."

Ginny stood up.

"I'm going to see Mum, and check on Harry, to know if he had seen something. Do you want to come?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, you go. I'm going to lie down a bit and wait for Ron."

"Okay," Ginny nodded, and left the room.

Hermione lay down on her side and curled her legs. She stared at the window, seeing the snowflakes fall, and fell asleep.

o o o

The sound of someone walking into the room awakened her suddenly. Not knowing where she was for a moment, she sat up on the bed, frightened, until she remembered what had happened. Breathing heavily, she looked at the door and saw Ron. Relaxed, she let herself fall onto the mattress.

"I'm going to the Astronomy Tower," he told her. "The sun will be down in less than one hour. Are you coming?"

She nodded and stood up. She took her cloak and put it on. "Ready," she said.

Together, they left the room and walked along the corridors towards the staircase, which they climbed up until they reached the seventh floor.

"Did you talk to Harry?" she asked, as they headed for the stairs that led to the Astronomy Tower.

"I didn't talk to anyone," he answered.

They reached the top of the tower and walked towards its border. It had stopped snowing and the wind had calmed. Hermione put her hands over the cold stone and watched the snow-covered grounds. All seemed calm and quiet.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?" asked Ron.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned her head to look at him. She was going to start, but then she realised that, according to Ginny, Ron already knew what she wanted to tell him. "I wanted to tell you everything, Ron. I wanted you to know everything that happened last June," she said. "I didn't want you to think I was having an affair, that I was seeing Harry behind your back, that I didn't respect you. But —"

Ron looked at her. "Why?" he asked.

"I needed to tell you."

"I don't care, Hermione. I've told you that several times," he said softly.

"Your letter made me cry, Ron. I hurt you so badly and I am so sorry for it —"

"I know you are sorry," Ron cut her in. "I told you this morning that I know that. I can feel it. And, to tell you the truth, it's starting to be a bit irritating."

"Sorry, I just can't stop —"

"For heaven's sake, Hermione, stop saying 'sorry'!"

Hermione lowered her head, not knowing what to say or what to do, but, after a while, she looked up at him again.

"I wanted to tell you that our relationship was never a lie," Hermione said vehemently. "What I told you at Slughorn's party was true. All of it. You weren't a replacement for Harry or anything like that. I really, really loved you. But — well, you already know that."

Ron frowned.

"Ginny," he whispered. "She told you, didn't she?"

Hermione blushed, and nodded.

"I told her not to say anything," said Ron, and sighed. "Yes, I know all that. You don't have to tell me. It's in your voice, all over you. I know all that now. I walk along the corridors and sense it in the castle, in the air; the echoes of what happened, of what we once shared, of what we once were. But it's in the past now. What is what you _really_ want, Hermione?"

"I want you," she blurted, without the slightest shame. The time for shyness had passed long ago. "I know I don't deserve you, and I don't expe—"

"No, you don't love me," he replied, interrupting her. "We've been through this. You can't love me; you can't love what I am."

"I want your old self, then!" she bellowed, sniffling.

"That Ron doesn't exist anymore, and you know it," he responded. "Why do you keep doing this?" he asked. "Why do you torture yourself?"

"I can't stop it!" she yelled. "This is not fair," she added in a lower voice, sobbing. "I made a mistake. Something horrible, I know. Must I suffer all my life for it?"

Ron shrugged, his face showing clearly that he didn't really care.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You said you can't love me," she told him.

"And it's true."

"I thought that it was, too ... until you used the White Light on me," she confessed. "When it got inside me, I felt as if you loved me again. It is impossible for you not to love and be able to conjure something like that. I _felt_ it, Ron!" she yelled, seizing the front of his jumper. "It was the most wonderful thing I've ever felt. And you asked your family to forgive us, to forget what had happened!"

Ron looked at her for a long time, as if he were pondering what she had told him.

"I want to feel that again," she continued after a minute. "I miss it. I know I don't deserve it, I know I have no right, but I can't help wanting it. I know you must have buried your love deeply so you won't suffer again, but I want it back. I know it's inside you," she insisted, and pressed her forehead against his chest, relishing on the proximity of his lean, strong body. "I understand it's too soon, but I just want you to know that, if someday, in a year, or in five, or in ten, you feel you can forgive me, I'll be here, waiting. I'll wait for you forever, Ron, because you're worth it."

A hand brushed a strand of her hair and tugged it behind her ear. Surprised by the gentle touch, she looked up at him. That touch had been the only affectionate gesture he had made towards her since he had returned.

"I've always liked your hair," he commented, but his voice was totally emotionless. "I knew you'd come to me with this when I used the Light on you," he added, softly, but there was no real feeling in his voice. "That's why I told you to forget it when we were going to send Alecto to Voldemort and you tried to ask." He paused for a moment and put another strand behind the other ear. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears leaking from them and run down her wet face. "Your hopes, your expectations, won't come true," he told her. "You'll have to move on," he advised, and moved away from her.

"I don't want to move on," she said. "I don't want to forget it. I _can't _forget it, because I felt it. You cannot deny it."

"I don't feel love, Hermione," he insisted. "Drop it."

"You're not a loveless monster like Voldemort!" Hermione bellowed. "I refuse to believe that!"

Ron didn't answer. He looked away, over the trees of the Forbidden Forest, at the mountains past Hogsmeade. Hermione stared at him, anxiously waiting for an answer.

"I don't feel love," he repeated, after a long silence.

"There's love in you!" she replied fervently. "I felt it!"

"I didn't say there wasn't," Ron answered. "I said that I don't feel it."

Hermione stared at him, confused, and waited for an explanation. Ron turned his head towards her.

"You asked me once how I had succeeded in stopping loving you," he said. "The truth is that I never did, Hermione," he confessed, and something inside her roared with joy. "I tried, but to no avail. But I didn't want that love. I believed that everything had been a lie. Now I know that it wasn't, but then ... I was hurt, I felt so betrayed, I felt unwanted ... That love was hurting me so much, so I sacrificed it."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, the joyful sensation she had felt vanishing quickly, replaced by a cold feeling of dread.

"The power I have, Hermione, where do you think it comes from? I told you I've found my Source. Well, it is not easy finding it, you know. You have to give something."

"Give something?" Hermione repeated. "I don't understand."

"The love in my soul, Hermione, that's my Source, that's the origin of my new magical power, of my new magical knowledge. Didn't I tell you that love was the key point? I transformed the love I felt towards you, towards anyone, in fact, into a source of power and magic. Love is the most powerful feeling in the world, and that's why my Source is so powerful. But, as that love I had is now feeding the Source, I cannot feel it anymore. That's the price, or the sacrifice it comes with. For me, it was simply liberation: without the love there was no more pain, there was no more suffering. I have it, you know — love — but it is no longer a feeling. And without love, I cannot feel pity, or sympathy, or friendship. I cannot feel anything like that anymore. I cannot care, and there's no turning back, Hermione, it cannot be undone. Do you understand?" he asked. "I cannot feel anything for you, or for anyone else. Not anymore. It's over."

Hermione's blood had run cold inside her veins. Her body was shaking and a stream of tears was running down her face. It could not be true, it was impossible.

"No," she said, sobbing. "No, please ... You didn't do that. It cannot be true ..."

"How did you think I'd got this power?" he continued, unrelenting. "It has to come from somewhere. You can't get what I have for nothing, Hermione. Everything's has a price. This is my secret, and now you know it. Now you know that I cannot love anymore. So forget it, forget what we once had, and move on, because there is no future for you and me. It doesn't matter if you wait a year, ten, or a century. It is impossible. It will never happen."

"Why?" she asked, defeated and desperate. "Why did you do something like that?"

"Because I couldn't stand the pain. I wanted it to stop, to go away. I had lost you and Harry, I felt like a failure and I wanted ... _needed_, to be something by myself."

"But I can't stop loving you!" she yelled, desperate. "You and I were good together. We complemented each other perfectly, we had so many — so many good times together ..." she added, her voice tailing away.

"Not anymore," he said. "I don't need you, Hermione. I know everything about magic now. I'm powerful and confident. I don't need anyone. I'm perfectly well on my own. And you ... you don't want someone like me. I was the one who made you laugh, who made you loosen up and enjoy life. But I'm not like that anymore."

Hermione began to cry even harder. She felt as if someone had ripped out her heart, leaving an empty hole in her chest. A hole that would never be filled again.

"I told you I didn't care about you the first day," Ron added. "I warned you. You saw me, how I am now. What did you expect, Hermione? Did you believe that, once the war had finished, everything would be back to normal? That we would be together again?"

"I — I didn't e-expect anything, not r-really," she muttered between sobs. "I knew that I had lost my chance with y-you, that, I h-had no right to w-want you b-back, that I d-didn't d-deserve you. But after feeling the — the White Light I — I —" she started crying harder, the magnitude of what Ron had told her, the magnitude of what she had caused when she had kissed Harry back in June flooded her, making her feel dizzy and lightheaded. It was all her fault. She had done this, to him, to herself ... And now she could see the While Light as some sort of a last punishment: it was not something that had healed her, but a reminder of what she had once had, a last taste of a love she wouldn't experience ever again.

"I'm sorry," he said, but there was no regret in his voice. He had upset her, but it didn't really bother him. As he had said, he could not feel love or sympathy.

"You said you liked my hair," she said, almost whispering.

"I do," he affirmed. "I always have. I can't feel love, but I can appreciate beauty. And you're beautiful, Hermione. I've already told you that you're a good person, a strong and intelligent woman, and there are loads of things you can do. You'll make a difference. You'll do great things. I didn't want you to know what I had told my family, because I didn't want you to think that there was a possibility of me caring about you. I want you all to be fine, but that's all."

"It is not fair," she lamented. "I know I did wrong, Ron, that I made great mistakes, but I've paid for them during these months. Do I have to keep paying for them my entire life?"

"It was not a mistake," Ron replied. "You loved him then."

"But I didn't want to!" she yelled. "I didn't want to want Harry! I should have told you," she said, dejected. "I should have broken up with you, and you wouldn't have left, because you wouldn't have felt betrayed. But I was too scared. Every time I imagined how it would be to tell you I panicked. I thought it would go away once the term was over. I _hoped_ that it would go away, that things would be like they had always been."

"You don't know if I'd have left or not," Ron responded. "Do you think I wouldn't have felt betrayed if you had told me you were in love with Harry? No one knows that, and thinking about it won't lead us anywhere. It was not just the kiss, Hermione. It was the fact that, after being with me, you fell in love with him."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"I know that things were not that simple, that you still loved me and that you didn't want to hurt me and all that. But now it doesn't matter. Unfair or not, it happened. Forget it, Hermione, and go on."

"I can't. I feel like I had a hole in my chest," she said, letting out a sob.

"I know how it feels. I know it very well."

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Ron was watching the grounds, and Hermione was deep in her thoughts, replaying in her mind what she had heard, trying to cope with the definitive end of all her hope, all her dreams ...

"I always dreamt about finishing Hogwarts with you and Harry," she commented, almost whispering. "We'd take our NEWTs, and then would rent a flat, or a house ..." Her voice tailed away. "Until you left. Harry told you that, we stopped caring about the future after that."

"You can still do that," Ron told her. "You can come back. This war ends tonight, Hermione. You are free. You have your entire life ahead of you."

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "Are you — are you going to come back to Hogwarts after — after everything ends?"

"No," said Ron. "What's the point in doing so? There's nothing here that I can learn. Once this is over, I'll leave."

"Leave?" she repeated, looking up at him, suddenly afraid. He couldn't leave. Not so soon. But, on the other hand, why would she want him to stay? To see him, knowing that she couldn't have him, that he would never love her? An eternal reminder of her stupidity, of her foolishness? And yet ... the idea of not seeing him again was unbearable.

"Yes," he nodded. "There are a lot of things I can do, a lot of people I can help. Voldemort may be the worst evil the world has faced, but it's not the only one."

"So, after tonight, we — we won't see you again?" she asked.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. But I suppose we'll meet somewhere ... someday."

Hermione was shaking with despair and a sudden and irrational loneliness. "I don't want to lose you, Ron. Not again."

Ron looked at her. "You'll be better off if you don't see me. It'll be easier for you to move on."

She was about to reply, to tell him again, that she didn't want to move on, but she stopped. Telling him was useless, but she knew that it was true, and that she never would. What she had told Harry was the truth: it was either Ron ... or no one. And she would wait, as she had said, even if there was no hope of him coming back to her.

Letting a lonely tear run down her cheek, she stood beside Ron, watching the grounds under the diminishing light. Above the mountains to the west, a tiny gap in the clouds let a weak beam of sunlight fall over the snowy trees of the Forbidden Forest just before the sun hid behind the mountain. It seemed a signal, an omen, indicating that the end was near.

"Time's almost over," Ron said when the beam of sunlight had extinguished.

"I want to know what happened to you when you left," piped up Hermione after a few minutes of silence. "I want to know how you became what you are, where you were, what you did."

Ron kept his eyes away, as the dimness around them seemed to grow second by second, leaving the grounds in the darkness.

"I've said plenty of times that I don't want to talk about that," he said finally.

"Please, Ron! If you cannot love me, if our friendship is over, do it for old times' sake. Please. I need to know."

"Why is it so important for you?" he asked, with a trace or curiosity in his voice. "There's nothing you can change. Why don't you let it go?"

"Because that's how I am, how I work," she answered. "I hate not knowing things, not understanding them, and you know it. I need to know. I need to know what I caused." She stared at him, pleadingly. "Tell me, please," she begged.

Ron seemed to consider it for a long moment. "You're mental, you know that?" Ron said finally.

"You used to tell me that all the time."

"There's no time for tales right now, Hermione. They're already here, waiting."

Hermione looked at the gates, but saw no one. He looked back at Ron.

"Tell me once the battle is over, then."

Ron seemed to think about it for a while.

"Okay," he accepted at last. "If you're so interested, I'll tell you, Hermione. But I'm warning you: you're not going to like it. Though if you insist, if it's so important for you, I'll explain. For old times' sake, as you've said."

"Thanks," she said. "Thanks."

But Ron was not paying her any attention. His eyes had narrowed, and they were fixed on the front gates of the school, now barely discernible due to the growing darkness.

And an instant later, a deafening sound, like a thunder, resounded over the grounds. A red lightning spread over the invisible barriers protecting the school, and disappeared a second later.

Hermione's head turned instantly to look at the gates, startled.

"It's time," Ron said. "They're ready."

* * *

><p><em>Now you know why Ron acts this way! Voldemort is now at the gates, and they'll break next Sunday.<em>

_See you then!_


	21. After Dusk

_Well, time for the battle! The action you all were wating is finally here. Voldemort has waited long enough! I hope you like it!_**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>After Dusk<strong>

Without letting her take in what he had just said, Ron grabbed Hermione's hand, and, a moment later, they had Apparated in the guest rooms' corridor. Ron moved quickly to Harry's room and opened the door. Harry was sitting on the bed, rubbing his scar, and Ginny was kneeling on the floor next to him, a worried expression on her face and a glass of water in her hand.

They both stared at Ron. "I was going to call you with your wand," he said. "They're outside the gates. They're trying to break into the grounds and he's furious because they can't."

"I know," Ron said. "Join us in the Great Hall as soon as you can. I'm going to tell McGonagall to get the students together in there."

Harry nodded and drank the water from the glass Ginny was offering him.

"Ginny, tell everyone here what's happening, okay?" Ron ordered his sister.

"Okay," answered Ginny, gulping.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron said, and grabbing her hand, they Disapparated and Apparated again in the staff room, startling professor McGonagall, Slughorn and Flitwick, which were accompanied by Kingsley, Mr Weasley and Lupin. They all were looking out of the window.

"They're here," blurted Ron without a pause. "Bring the students to the Great Hall now."

"How many of them have come?" asked Kingsley. "I've brought some Aurors —"

"That won't be necessary," interrupted Ron. "They've brought the Death Eaters that are still free, along with some giants and Dementors. Nothing to worry about. I can deal with them without any problem."

"Ron, there are students here," Mr Weasley reminded him.

"That's why you are going to watch them, and to patrol the Entrance Hall. And, above all," he added, "you have to keep an eye on the Slytherins."

"All right, then," said Professor McGonagall, getting to her feet. "Filius, Horace, go and fetch your students as quickly as you can. I'll send a message to Hagrid and Pomona to tell them to bring the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors."

Nodding, Flitwick and Slughorn hurried out of the room. Professor McGonagall took her wand and conjured her _Patronus_, which soared through the window and out of sight.

"I'll get everyone together in the Great and Entrance Halls," piped up Kingsley.

"There's no need to rush," Ron told them. "They cannot break my protection if I don't let them. You don't need to worry."

A bit calmer, Kingsley nodded. "Let's go to the Entrance Hall, then?"

Without waiting for them, Ron took Hermione's hand again and an instant later they were standing in the Entrance Hall, facing the closed oak doors. Ron released her hand, and she noticed that she was already missing his touch. Did he know how it made her feel, the simple act of grabbing her hand in his bigger one? Did he know that, each time he had done it, she had remembered their long walks around the lake, their detours along the corridors, their snogging sessions in empty classrooms?

It wasn't the time to think about stuff like that, she knew it, but, how could she not think about that when it had been, perhaps, the last time he would hold her hand?

The oak doors opened suddenly, taking Hermione off her thoughts, to reveal Hagrid, who walked hurriedly towards them, Fang running on his tails.

"Ron, Hermione!" he shouted. "Received a message from Professor McGonagall. She wants me to fetch the Gryffindors, ter brin' them ter the Great Hall. They're tryin' ter break into the school!"

"Yes, I know," said Ron. "Go on, Hagrid."

Nodding, Hagrid climbed up the stairs and vanished from view.

Hearing the shouts, a few men (Aurors, supposed Hermione) came out of the Great Hall. Tonks was with them.

"What's happening?" the tallest of them asked, walking ahead of the rest, before realising who Ron was and stopping dead on his tracks.

"Lord Voldemort's at the gates, with what's left of his army," explained Ron calmly.

The Aurors' eyes widened. "The thunder we heard! It was them!" another of them yelled, and resumed walking. He seemed about to start running. "The Minister —"

"The Minister will be here in a moment," Ron said, stopping them. "The Heads of House are bringing their students to the Great Hall, and you're going to watch them here."

"We're not baby—" the Auror began to protest. Obviously, he didn't know who Ron was, but when he threw a glare at him, he became still and fell silent.

"You'll do what I tell you to do," Ron told them. No one replied.

"Have you seen Remus?" Tonks asked, worried.

"He'll be here soon," Hermione answered. "Don't worry, Tonks."

Another thunder resounded, and everyone looked towards the front doors, but they couldn't see the gates from their position.

The growing sound of people running drew their attention towards the marble staircase, which Harry and Ginny, followed by the rest of the Weasleys, Kingsley, Lupin and Slughorn were climbing down quickly. Slughorn headed straight for the dungeons corridor while the rest of them joined Ron and Hermione in the middle of the Hall.

"He's getting pretty angry," Harry informed them, with a pained look on his face. He was sweating, and the scar on his forehead seemed to be glowing. "They can't get in, and he is beginning to go mad with fury."

"Good," said Ron.

"Minister, what are our orders?" the tallest Auror asked Kingsley. "He — I mean, Weasley — told us to watch the students, but —"

"Then that's exactly what we are going to do," Kingsley cut him in, as the noise of dozens of feet walking began to fill the Entrance Hall. A few seconds later, Professor Sprout appeared, leading a long line of whispering students from Hufflepuff house.

"Get inside the Great Hall, come on!" Professor Sprout ordered, stopping in the Entrance Hall and watching her students.

"Is he here, Harry?" Ernie Macmillan asked, instead following Sprout's orders. Hannah Abbot, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones waited behind him. "Is there something we can do? I mean, we were on the DA —"

"Macmillan, Finch-Fletchley, Abbott, Bones!" Professor McGonagall called as she descended the stairs. "Do as you've been told and get into the Great Hall!"

Hermione saw Harry nodding towards Ernie, Justin, Hannah and Susan, and the four of them followed the last of their housemates. Instants later, the Slytherins appeared, almost at the same time as the Ravenclaws.

Hermione saw Ron glaring at the Slytherins, as though he was warning them about what would happen should they dare to misbehave during the fight that was about to happen. They saw him, and a lot of them tried to walk as far from him as possible.

When, ten minutes later, Hagrid had conducted the Gryffindors to the Hall, every head in the Entrance Hall turned towards Ron, expectant, waiting for further instructions.

"It's time," Ron said, finally, and the oak doors opened, revealing the almost completely dark grounds outside. At the same time, another deafening thunder resounded, and, for an instant, the snow turned red, lit by the lightning that spread over the protective enchantments around the castle.

Mrs Weasley, unable to hold back, flung herself at Ron, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Ron, please! Let us help! _He_ is here. And there are a lot of them. Please ..." she sobbed, staring up at him pleadingly. Ron's face didn't change a bit.

"No," he said, determined. "I won't let anyone else die unnecessarily. I can end this, and I will. You don't have to worry. He has nothing to do against me," he assured, gently pushing her off him.

"Ron?" asked Kingsley.

Ron shook his head and moved towards the entrance of the Great Hall. Once there, he took his wand and pointed it at the walls. There was a flash of purple light, and suddenly, it was as if part of the castle had vanished, allowing the people in the Great and Entrance Halls to see the grounds outside. Hermione stared at it, amazed. It was yet possible to see the walls and everything on them, but it seemed as if they were made of transparent glass instead of stone.

"This way, the students can see, and hear, what's happening, which is the whole point of keeping them here. Watch over them."

Without any other word, he moved across the Entrance Hall and towards the doorway and the dark, cold grounds outside.

"I want to be beside you," blurted Harry, moving forwards and walking towards him. "I promised myself I would be by your side, and I will."

Ron turned round and looked at him. Hermione joined Harry, and nodded determinedly. She wanted to be with him, too. Even though they were no longer the trio once had been, she would be with him, as she had promised Ginny, as she had promised herself. Because if she had to, she would protect Ron's life with hers.

"In every occasion we've faced a danger during these years, it was you who faced the worst at the end, alone," Ron said. "Now it's my time."

"I'm going, Ron," Harry said, stubbornly. "I want to be with you when you ... finish him off. Or if you need help."

"You are not the Chosen One," said Ron. "You don't have to come."

"Well, you're not the Chosen one either, Ron! And you said yourself I had done what I had done because it was right, not because I had to!"

"It's dangerous," said Ron.

"We don't care," said Hermione.

"I won't let you come. I don't care about your promises or your needs. I have to protect your lives."

"You'll have to hex me to prevent me from going," declared Harry.

"I don't have a problem with that," replied Ron.

"I'm going," insisted Harry.

Narrowing his eyes, Ron took his wand ant shot a spell at Harry. Harry conjured a Shield Charm, but the spell destroyed it, hit Harry in the stomach and threw him backwards, making him slide across the floor.

"Oh, Merlin!" moaned Hermione. No one else said anything. Everyone seemed too shocked to speak.

Harry stood up with difficulty, clutching his stomach with a pained expression; but, with a determined and defiant look on his face, started to advance again towards Ron.

"I'm going, Ron," he insisted.

Ron pointed his wand at him again. "Stop, Harry."

"You'll have to hex me too," said Hermione.

"I'll do it if I have to, Hermione, without a second thought," stated Ron.

Harry moved towards Ron, and he hit him again with another spell, making him fell and slide through the stone floor once more. But Harry, stubbornly, stood up again and resumed his advance.

"Stop."

"No."

BANG! Harry fell again, moaning, but he stood up, for the third time, and tried again to approach Ron.

"Stop, Harry. I'm warning you," Ron said in a threatening tone.

"I'm going with you."

Another BANG! Harry was thrown backwards, this time even harder than before, but after a few seconds, he got to his feet once more, though more slowly this time. Pain was etched upon his face, but he seemed still determined, and again started walking towards Ron. Hermione felt the tears run down her cheeks.

This time, Ron moved towards him, too, and pressed the tip of his wand against Harry's chest, keeping him three feet away from him.

"I'm telling you to stop," Ron said, between gritted teeth.

"No."

"Why do you want to come? Why?"

"I want to stand by you, Ron. You would have done the same for me. You did the same for me!" he yelled, his voice filled with emotion, and Hermione noticed his eyes were wet.

"I'm perfectly fine without you. I don't need you. _I don't want you_ _with me_," Ron hissed coldly, and turned round.

"But I need you," said Harry, almost crying, while everyone looked at the scene, shocked. "I need you, Ron. I need to be with you and help you. _I swore it to myself_."

"You'll have to break your promise," Ron answered.

"You said you needed us," said Hermione. "Yesterday morning. You told me. We're going, Ron."

Ron whirled around and pointed his wand at Hermione's face.

"No, Hermione. You almost died last time. I won't let that happen again."

Hermione gave a step towards him, getting closer to the wand, and shut her eyes, trembling with heartache and fear.

"You won't hurt Hermione," she heard Harry say. "You can't. It's _Hermione_, Ron." But there was a hint of fear in his voice.

"The old Ron would have never hurt her. But I will if I have to," Ron stated emotionlessly.

"Then hex me," she said, daring to open her eyes and look at him. "But make sure I can't move, because if I have an ounce of strength left, I'll follow you out there. You can't hurt me more than I've already hurt us both, Ron."

"Ron!" yelled then Ginny, who seemed to be on the verge of tears as well. "Stop please! Don't you see they're trying? You himself said, yesterday, that you could make mistakes! Let them help, please! Let us help. We're all worried about you. Don't you see that?"

"I won't let anyone die," Ron declared, his wand still pointing at Hermione's face.

"I don't want you to die," said then Hermione, wiping away her tears. "I can't be here while you're out there. What if something happens? I won't let you die if I can prevent it, Ron, I won't!"

Ron lowered his wand.

"You don't understand anything. _You don't get it_," he said, shaking his head, and looked at the floor. "Okay, then," he added after a few moments. "If you're so eager to come, then come. But stay behind me and don't do anything stupid."

Harry and Hermione nodded. Hermione felt her heart rate quicken, and, although the night was cold, she noticed she was sweating.

"Let's go."

"How are you?" Hermione asked Harry in a low voice.

"Fine," said Harry, brushing his face, obviously embarrassed. "It's nothing, just a few bruises."

Hermione nodded, and they followed Ron through the doorway and down the front stairs, their steps muffled by the layer of snow. At certain point, Ron stopped, watching from the distance the area where the iron gates were placed. For a few minutes, he didn't do anything but stand still, until another lightning, followed by a thunderous sound, spread over the wards. Then Ron raised his wand over his head, it began to glow, and, after a moment, the whole world around Hogwarts seemed to glow too, with a transparent, soft red light. Hermione opened her mouth, surprised, and then realised it was not the world what was glowing, but the protective charm Ron had put around the castle.

A moment later, Ron's wand light faded, and with a 'CRACK!' the light surrounding Hogwarts vanished: the charm was broken.

Hermione looked towards her left and saw Harry clutching his forehead. Getting closer to him, she put a hand over his right shoulder. "Are you all right? What have you seen?"

"He's startled, but pleased," Harry answered. "He thinks it was him who broke the protection. They're coming."

"That's what I want him to believe," said Ron, still looking forwards and caressing his wand.

Hermione looked at the castle, and saw the rest of the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, Hagrid, Kingsley, Professor McGonagall and the others, staring at them from the front doors and the stairs. She noticed that, from the outside, the walls of the castle weren't transparent.

A sudden uproar made her whirl around. In the distance, four great bulks that could only be giants were running towards them, followed by dozens of cloaked figures. Some of them seemed to be running, too, but others were gliding. _Dementors,_ she thought.

Ron didn't move, didn't flinch. He seemed perfectly calm, as if he were watching a function written by himself.

The giants were near now, far from the rest of Voldemort's army. And then Hermione felt it.

Something warm, electrifying, coming off Ron. She looked at him, and he seemed to be glowing a bit. His hair was whirling, like ruffled by the wind, although there was none. The tip of his wand was also lit, and the strings of silver on it seemed brighter than before.

The giants charged against them, and Hermione felt the sudden impulse to retreat, clutching her wand firmly. But Ron didn't recoil. Slowly, he raised his wand above his head, and its tip became brighter, so dazzling that it was hard to look at it. With a quick and ample movement of his arm, similar to a tennis serve, he threw the tiny point of light against the approaching giants.

It flew rapidly towards them, and, when it was twenty yards away from its targets, it split in four, and each one hit one of the enormous creatures.

With a surprised and confused look on their stony faces, they stopped dead in their tracks, their hands moving towards the point in their chests where the lights had touched them.

Hermione saw, utterly amazed, how their movements were becoming slower, how they were grunting, trying to move but finding it more and more difficult. And then she realised that they were slowly transforming into statues.

A few seconds later, the transformation had completed, and the four giants fell onto the ground, totally immobile, their flesh turned into stone. Hermione heard the murmurs and distant whispers of amazement behind them, but she couldn't articulate a word herself.

Ron didn't waste a single second relishing in this partial victory. He pointed his wand to the sky, and a ring of golden flames formed around it. It began to grow steadily, becoming wider and bigger, and, at the same time, it began to move upwards in the air, illuminating the grounds below and around it.

In the distance, the Death Eaters stopped, apparently disconcerted by the ring of fire and the quick defeat of the giants.

But the Dementors didn't relent. Those nauseating creatures knew no fear. They felt victims ahead of them, a banquet, and that was the only thing that mattered to them.

They were getting closer now, reaching the place where the giant-statues were. There were at least a hundred of them, and she began to feel colder, and the images of her worst memories began to flood her mind ...

And then, a new light appeared, illuminating the snow. Hermione felt a pleasant and welcome warmth coursing throughout her body, and the feeling of despair vanished. Shaking her head, she looked at Ron, and saw that vast quantities of White Light were flowing from the tip of his wand, forming a sort of protective barrier between them and the Dementors. It seemed to act like an incredibly powerful _Patronus_.

The Dementors continued advancing, approaching Ron. When they were ten yards away from him, he waved his wand forwards, as if pushing something, and the While Light moved, flowing through the air and surrounded the cloaked Dementors, getting inside all of them.

At once, the hundred creatures stopped moving, and began to shake in obvious discomfort and pain. The hoods of some of them fell backwards, and Hermione saw, horror-struck, the putrid faces of the monsters. The White Light, so pure and good, was something totally opposite to the nature of the Dementors, and therefore they seemed unable to stand it. Emitting guttural shrieks that made Hermione shiver, they scattered and fled, leaving the dozen or so Death Eaters as the only forces available to Voldemort.

"Merlin's beard!" Hermione heard Harry mutter. "Awesome!"

"That's an understatement," Hermione said in a low voice.

Before them, Ron raised his right arm and pointed his wand at the ring of fire above them. Instantly, it became a ball of golden fire which soon began to grow, its diameter increasing slowly. Hermione felt the heat emanating from it, erasing the cold of the winter night.

The ball kept growing, lighting the grounds as though it was broad daylight. The snow around them began to melt, and Hermione could see the Death Eaters, who had stopped dead, frozen on the spot, perfectly visible now under the bright light of the immense sphere of fire above them.

Hermione looked at them. They were wearing their Death Eater robes, but had no masks on, so they were recognisable. She identified Lucius Malfoy's scared face, accompanied by her wife, who looked pale and shaken, and recognised the disgusting face of Fenrir Greyback. She didn't know the names of the others, but she let a moan escape her mouth upon seeing the twisted expression on Bellatrix Lestrange's face. She clutched her wand tighter, her hand trembling, and felt a surge of hate rippling through her. That was the woman — monster was a more appropriate word — who had almost killed her, who had almost destroyed her ...

She forced herself to stay calm, and kept staring at the doubtful Death Eaters, noticing that some of them still had marks upon their faces that were proof of the rage Voldemort had endured after what had happened in the last days.

"I'm waiting," Ron said suddenly, his voice magically amplified. "Are you going to attack me?" he asked them in a slightly mocking tone. He paused for a moment and then added, "But, of course, I understand your dilemma: attack me, and face my unbeatable power, or retreat and suffer your master's wrath?"

"We're not scared of you!" shrieked Bellatrix, who pointed her wand at Ron and gave a few steps forward. "You and the rest of your friends are going to die!"

"Try."

Shrieking with rage and madness, Bellatrix advanced and shot a Killing Curse towards Ron, who, unaffected, blocked it with a flick of his wand.

"You'll have to try something better," Ron told her. "This doesn't work against me."

"ATTACK HIM!" Bellatrix ordered, and began to throw curses and hexes like a woman possessed. Some of the Death Eaters imitated her, but nothing they cast seemed to affect Ron. With a soft motion of his wand, he had conjured a sort of magic wall which was absorbing everything his enemies were throwing at him.

After a few minutes, some of them relented, doubt etched upon their faces. Only Bellatrix seemed to have some crazy hope, because she kept at it, attacking without a pause.

"DIE, DIE YOU FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR! Why the hell don't you die?"

Ron blocked a new Killing Curse from her, and then said, coldly and sternly, "Enough." He made a slashing gesture with his wand, and there was a great explosion. Bellatrix was thrown through the air and landed, rather haphazardly, near where Harry and Hermione stood. Her face was bloody and her robes were torn and burnt. She was stirring, but barely, and moaning.

The rest of the Death Eaters gave a step back, perhaps unconsciously. Ron fixed his eyes upon them, and Hermione could have sworn that a shiver had run through all of them.

Ron raised his wand and its tip flashed briefly. A moment later, the sphere of golden flames illuminating the grounds got even brighter, and began to shot firebolts and streams of flames against the Death Eaters. They tried to cover themselves, using Shield Charms and all sorts of protective spells, but it was useless. Dozens of golden fireballs impacted against and around them, exploding in violent surges of golden flames that couldn't be extinguished. The Death Eaters, yelling and screaming, scattered, some of them falling onto the snow, his robes burning with what seemed everlasting fire.

Hermione saw all of this, scared and revolted. The smell of burning flesh and hair was reaching her, turning her stomach and making her feel sick. The heat was now overwhelming, and all around them the grounds were becoming a pond due to the melting snow.

"Ron, stop!" Harry bellowed. "You can't burn them alive!"

Ron didn't look back at Harry, nor made any sign that he had heard him, caught up by the intensity of his own terrible, unleashed power. However, after a few seconds, he gave a flick with his wand and the sphere stopped sending firebolts and began to shrink. At the same time, the fire on the grounds and on the Death Eaters died out, leaving a mass of moaning and stirring bodies. But Hermione could tell that all of them were still alive, though severely wounded.

The smell was nauseating.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Bellatrix trying to stand up with difficulty. She grabbed her wand and tried to move again, but then she saw Hermione and froze on the spot. Her eyes widened, surprise and utter confusion perfectly visible in them.

"YOU!" she shrieked. "You can't — How? I almost — I —"

"Ron healed me," Hermione answered contemptuously.

Bellatrix was going to say something more, but a loud calling resounded then, interrupting her.

"Lord Voldemort!" Ron shouted, his powerful voice reverberating throughout the grounds. "Your army is beaten and defeated. I've crushed all your slaves. Face me yourself if you're wizard enough!"

Hermione tore her gaze away from Bellatrix' face and looked beyond Ron. Far in the distance, past the zone where the Death Eaters lay, wounded and beaten, a tall man in a black robe was standing still, barely visible in his black attire, contemplating the destruction of his army.

After a second, Voldemort started to walk towards them. Hermione stared at him, seeing him for the first time. When they had escaped from Godric's Hollow she had only caught a glimpse of his face. Now, she could appreciate the horror of his snakelike features; the cold, full of hate gleam in his red eyes; his spiderlike hands. He moved, warily, towards Ron, through the zone where his Death Eaters lay, some of them moaning, some of them begging at him. He ignored them.

"Well," Ron said, "we meet at last."

Bellatrix let out a moan, and shaking from cold and fear, she crawled towards Voldemort, her robes drenched in water. "Master!" she begged. "Master — we have to go —"

Voldemort threw a disgusted glance towards her, but his eyes were fixed again on Ron a second later. "Shut up, Bella," he said contemptuously. "It's obvious you can't do anything right —"

"Do you think you can do better?" asked Ron, tilting his head to his right.

"I am Lord Voldemort!" he bellowed, and from the tip of his wand flew a bunch of sparks. "I am the conqueror of Death! And soon, you, and Potter, and everyone else who dared to help you will die at my hands."

"Are you sure?" Ron said. "You're alone now. Even if you could beat me, you would have to defeat all of them," Ron explained, moving his hand to point at Harry, Hermione and all the others that were behind, in the Entrance Hall.

"I'll crush anyone!" Voldemort screamed, full of rage. "And I'll do it slowly, to teach a lesson to any fool that thinks they can fight me!"

"But I can block the Killing Curse," said Ron. "I can block any spell. You couldn't break my protective enchantments around the castle. What makes you think you can beat me?"

"I am Lord Voldemort!" Voldemort yelled, his eyes flashing red with anger. "And _I_ broke your enchantments! I brought the death of Albus Dumbledore, of the Minister for Magic, and countless men and women which stood on my way! And as I —"

Ron let out a mirthless laugh, and Voldemort's words died in his mouth. "Oh, Voldemort, how ignorant you are ... how stupid ..."

"HOW DO YOU DARE —?"

"You are a fool!" Ron told him, cackling humourlessly. "And you thought of yourself as the most powerful and intelligent wizard in history? You're nothing, nothing but a maimed soul in a corrupted body. What chances do you have, when confronted with me, possessor of an untarnished soul, possessor of a Source, maker and master of the Wand of Power?"

That caught Voldemort's attention. "Wand of Power? What are you talking about?"

Ron ignored him. "You didn't break my protections! It was me; I undid them so you could get in! And you didn't kill Dumbledore! Snape was working for him, because he loved Lily Potter! He's here, in the castle, with us! And you never realised! You're so blind ... And I won't mention the horcruxes ..." Ron shook his head. "How could you be so stupid?"

"How do you know?" Voldemort asked. "How do you know about them? Was it Dumbledore? Was he who discovered my secret?"

"He was," Ron said, nodding. "But he was not the only one. You're so full of yourself you didn't notice when you dropped evident hints of what you had done to achieve immortality."

"What do you mean?" Voldemort hissed.

"Regulus Black discovered your secret, too!" Ron informed him. "The elf you took to that cave didn't die there! Elves can Apparate in and out that place! He escaped and told Regulus, and he put the pieces together. He was the one who stole the locket!"

Voldemort looked totally dumbfounded, and Hermione realised he was thinking whether he had really been so careless.

"And the place where you hid the diadem ..." Ron continued. "Hundreds of students and professors have used that room before and after! But well, to tell you the truth, it doesn't really matter, because I can detect and trace them. So it is not really important where or how well hidden they are, because I can find them," he stated. "Only two horcruxes remain: the one in Gringotts and your beloved snake."

"It's enough!" Voldemort snarled. "You can't kill me! I'm immortal! And once I have killed you, I'll recover them, and protect them, and make more!"

"You cannot make more," Ron replied. "Your soul is already on the breaking point. Try to make another and you'll destroy yourself."

"That's a lie!" Voldemort bellowed.

"You don't have to believe me if you don't want to," Ron retorted. "But it doesn't matter, because you're not going to have the chance to try."

"You cannot kill me!"

"That's true," Ron said, nodding. "I can't. But — who told you I want to kill you? There are more ways of finishing you off, you know ... terrible ways, I must add."

"Nothing's worse than death!"

"I'm afraid ... you're wrong." Voldemort looked awestruck, and Ron added, "But I'm going to give you a chance. I'm going to give you the opportunity to regret, the opportunity to feel remorse and mend your soul."

"What?" Hermione heard Harry ask. "What do you mean, Ron?"

"I mean what I've said," Ron answered. "Regret what you've done, Voldemort, and you will be able to rest in death."

"I'm not going to die!" Voldemort hissed, totally furious. Without a warning, he shot a _Cruciatus _Curse against Ron, but Ron made a flick with his wand and the curse was blocked.

"Should I take this as a sign that you're not willing to try remorse, then?" Ron asked, moving slightly to his right, as Voldemort did the same, looking warily at his enemy.

"I don't regret anything!" Voldemort declared, and attacked again, this time with a powerful Killing Curse. Hermione saw Harry touch his scar, which was, for sure, hurting for being so near to an enraged Voldemort attempting to kill. She turned again to look back at the duel and saw Ron blocking the curse. She noticed that he seemed almost bored.

"You see?" Ron said with disdain. "You cannot kill me. Your curses cannot touch me. You're finished."

Voldemort roared with rage, and began to throw curse after curse at Ron. But Ron continued to block them, again and again. Finally, reaching the limit of his patience, Voldemort shot a powerful Blasting Curse against the Entrance Hall, without another purpose than to kill as many people as he could.

The yellow streak soared through the air, but Ron, quick, pointed at it with its wand and it frozen in mid-air. Then, with a swing of his wand, it vanished.

"No ... it is impossible," Voldemort muttered, impressed.

Ron turned his head towards his enemy, and Hermione saw that, now, he seemed really furious.

"You heartless killer ..." he hissed, and even Voldemort flinched at the coldness and fury in his voice. "You can't kill me, so you try to kill them?" Voldemort raised his wand, ready to defend himself, his eyes wide and wary. "I gave you a chance," continued Ron. "You didn't take it. Then it's your end."

Voldemort shot another curse, but Ron deflected it and, slashing his wand, blasted Voldemort backwards, making him fall flat on the snow-covered ground. Ron moved towards him slowly.

"You can't beat me!" Voldemort yelled, and threw another curse at Ron. Bellatrix moved, moaning, and helped his master to get to his feet. But, with a groan of fury, he pushed her with his wand, making her fall on a puddle of melting snow. Voldemort gave a few steps back and attacked again, but it was useless. Desperate, he cast a great snake of fire, and made it attack Ron. But Ron didn't stop, and when the blazing snake reached him, he moved his wand with a bored gesture and it turned into smoke.

"No!" Voldemort yelled, frenzied and desperate. "I'm Lord Voldemort! I'm Slytherin's heir!" He added, and began to move his arm to throw another curse.

Ron deflected it once more, and Voldemort let out a shriek which sent shivers down Hermione's spine.

From the tip of his wand burst a lightning that coursed through the air towards Ron. Ron held his hand out and stopped the streak with his palm, furrowing his brow in concentration. Voldemort screamed again, full of rage, and intensified his attack, but it was unable to break Ron's resistance. Slowly, they both moved in a circle, Voldemort now getting closer to Harry and Hermione, who both took their wands and pointed them at his back.

But Ron didn't seem to need help. He closed his hand around the lightning, and it broke with a deafening sound that resembled a thunder, making Voldemort fall flat on his back.

But he wasn't beaten. Suddenly, he turned into a great snake, and, hissing, tried to bit Hermione, who, quickly, shot a spell at it, sending it backwards. Hissing more furiously, the snake-Voldemort changed its target and attacked Harry, but before Harry could do anything, a new spell from Ron's wand send it a few yards away, making it turn into his true form.

With his eyes full of hate and fury, Voldemort stood up, watching Ron through the space that separated Hermione and Harry.

"Thank your _friend_, Harry, who saved you. _Once more_," he said, his words full of venom. "It's great having such a great friend, isn't it? It's a shame that, for what I've heard, you're not such a good friend to him."

"Shut up!" Harry said, furious.

"Ah, the truth hurts, doesn't it, Harry?" Voldemort said, moving so Harry was now between him and Ron. "You've always hidden behind other better men and women that were ready to die for you. But to let a friend you betrayed do your job? I expected more from the great Harry Potter."

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Voldemort. "I've never hidden!" he yelled. "I am here right now."

"Yes, because you are aware of the fact that our hands share the same core, aren't you, Potter? You think you're protected by this coincidence. I see your friend doesn't seem very concerned about you ... But, what if I aim at the Mudblood?" Voldemort said, and directed his wand towards Hermione, who, frightened but decided, raised hers, ready to fight although she knew she was no match for him.

"You loved her, didn't you, Ronald Weasley?" Voldemort asked. "Let's see then ..." He got closer to Hermione, and Harry aimed at his face. "Will you drop your wand in exchange for her life? I can kill her in a second, and I doubt even you can save her, I'm too close."

Ron didn't move.

"Don't listen to him, Ron," Hermione yelled. "Finish him off. End this. I don't mind what may happen to me."

"Drop your wand, Weasley."

"No," said Ron simply.

"I see," said Voldemort, and smiled. "You've acknowledged the undeniable truth I've been defending for so long, haven't you?" he added. "But of course, you're a pureblood, boy. She betrayed you. But what can you expect from a filthy Mudblood like her? Muggles ... They're too stupid to understand something that's greater than them. They're not trustworthy, Ronald. My mother learnt that the hard way, and I see you did, too.

"I understand if you can't do it, Ronald," Voldemort continued," but I could do it for you. Wouldn't you like to see her writhing on the ground, paying for what she did? I can do that, and then kill her, as she deserves. She's just a Mudblood, isn't she?"

"Stop using that word," Ron said coldly, and moved a bit closer to them. Harry moved closer to her as well.

"So you still care for her, then?" Voldemort asked. "Pathetic."

"You're just wasting time," said Ron, and smiled dangerously. "Do you think you can convince me with such ridiculous arguments? I know what you're doing, Tom. You can't use your Legilimency on me, can't you? But I can see your corrupted mind. I can see the fear, Tom. You're afraid, more afraid than ever before. And believe me, you have good reasons to be scared."

Voldemort let out a yell of fury, and his eyes gleamed dangerously. "As you want, then!" he shouted, and, still aiming at Hermione, he yelled, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

The green stream of death soared through the air, directly towards Hermione. But Harry, almost instantly, yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Harry's red spell collided with Voldemort's green one just two yards ahead of Hermione. The two streaks connected instantly, and the beam turned bright gold. Hermione, with her heart still beating hard, observed it, amazed, noticing that neither Harry nor Voldemort seemed able to break the connection.

"NO!" yelled Voldemort. "No, no! Bella, give me your wand!"

"NOW, RON!" yelled Harry, sweating due to the effort of holding his wand. "Do what you have to do and finish him off now!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Bellatrix, who was trying to get closer to his master, but, before she could toss her wand at him, Hermione yelled 'STUPEFY!' and she dropped onto a puddle of melting snow.

"NO!" screamed Voldemort, full of rage.

Ron moved a bit more and stopped when he was just between Harry and Hermione. In that instant, the beautiful and heavenly sound of a phoenix singing filled the grounds.

Ron, instead of attacking Voldemort, put his right hand over Harry's.

"This is not needed, Harry. Break the connection."

"What!"

"Break the connection."

Harry looked up at Ron the same way he would do at an insane person. But after a moment, let Ron lift their hands and the connection between the wands broke.

"That was not necessary," said Ron.

"He almost killed Hermione!"

"No, he didn't," said Ron, his eyes fixed upon Voldemort, who shot a new Killing Curse. But it vanished just before reaching the place where the three of them stood.

"He can't touch you," explained Ron, speaking loudly enough so Voldemort could hear him. "I was not going to make the same mistake that I made at the Ministry. I put a spell on you before. You're protected from him."

Hermione stared at Ron, amazed, and then directed her gaze towards Voldemort, who now seemed more afraid than before. He was looking at the three of them, maybe realising, for the first time, that he could not win.

"Three years ago, you took Harry's blood," Ron said. "You took inside you something that you can't understand. Something so good and pure that cannot be corrupted. Lily Potter's sacrifice is the only thing inside you that is good. With it, you can mend your soul. Repent, Tom, and you'll have a normal death."

"NEVER!" Voldemort shouted. "You cannot kill me, and you said that yourself! You're trying to fool me so I make myself mortal once more, but I won't! No matter how powerful you are, you can't kill me!"

"Death is the best thing you can hope for in your state."

"I'M LORD VOLDEMORT!" Voldemort yelled, and made a sudden movement with his wand. A fraction of a second later, Bellatrix' wand flew towards him, and he caught it. "Go to hell!" he yelled, and moved his arm to throw another curse.

"You're nothing," Ron replied, and at the same time he gave a quick movement with his wand. There was a scream of pain and terror, and Hermione saw Voldemort's right arm flying through the air, leaving a trail of blood drops behind it, the hand still clutching Bellatrix' wand.

Immediately, Voldemort grabbed his maimed arm with his left hand, screaming in pain. It had been cut by the elbow, and was now bleeding profusely. The snow under it was becoming crimson quickly.

"Master! Master!" Bellatrix bellowed, terrified.

Ron ignored her. He pointed his wand at Voldemort and made him kneel on the snow.

"Say your last words," Ron told him.

"You ... cannot ... kill me."

Ron lifted his wand, and a moment later Hermione saw a black smoke flowing from its tip, and she understood at last what Ron's plan was. She felt shivers running throughout her body, but not from the cold.

"This is the Dark Shadow," Ron explained to Voldemort, speaking slowly. "It destroys anything, absolutely and completely. There's no way to repair what it does."

Hermione saw the fear in Voldemort's eyes. "It cannot kill me!" he yelled again, but Hermione didn't know if he really believed it, or was simply trying to convince himself.

"It won't kill you. Well, it'll kill your body," Ron said. "But it will also destroy your magic, your mind and your soul. It will erase you from this world; it will be as if you had never existed."

"No ..."

"Yes," nodded Ron. "The horcruxes bind your soul to this world, but you'll not have any soul to bind. There will be nothing left of you. There won't be an afterlife for you."

"No ..." Voldemort repeated, and tried to fight, to move, but the spell Ron had put on him was too strong.

"Is or isn't it worse than death?" asked Ron. "Of course, a soul can never be _completely_ destroyed, but only its core will linger. You won't have any knowledge, any memory. You'll be something lost in the cold and the darkness. For all eternity."

The Dark Shadow began to soar in a circle around Voldemort, waiting for Ron's command to attack him and put an end to his existence.

Ron moved his hand forwards, and the Shadow got inside Voldemort's body.

There was a terrible scream. Hermione saw his eyes widening, saw him tilting his head backwards, saw his body beginning to shake, quicker and quicker. The Shadow consumed the magic of Ron's spell, and Voldemort fell backwards, his body convulsing with violent spasms. With his last ounces of strength, Voldemort let out one last wail of pain and terror that resounded throughout the grounds. And just a few seconds later, it became completely still, and began to shrink, to dissolve, slowly disappearing, being consumed by the destructive force of the Dark Shadow, until at last there was nothing left of it, as if it had never existed.

Slowly, Ron raised his head and looked at the awestruck, silent people watching the battle for a moment.

"It's over."

* * *

><p><em>So, it's over! Well, we still have two horcruxes - plus Harry - to destroy, but Voldemort is over, destroyed by the terrible Dark Shadow and forced into a semi-existence in nothingness. He could have chosen to repent and die a normal death - what would happen in his afterlife is something I prefer not to think about. But he was always too stupid to know what was good for him!<em>

_Next chapter, this Wednesday! It's only seven chapters left! Though chapter 22 - this one is chapter 20, the Introduction is not a chapter - will be post in two parts, as it's stated in the mentioned Introduction._

_P.S.: Now I mention chapter 22, I made a mistake when I published 'June, 1997'_. _I said, there, that that was the longest chapter. No, that's not true. I don't know how, but I made a mistake when calculating the number of pages and - don't ask me how - I thought chapter 22 had ten less pages than it has. Chapter 22 is the longest chapter in the story._


	22. A New Era

__As it seems to be still some confusion regarding chapter numbers, I'm going to start putting the number above the title. The Introduction is not a chapter, so last chapter was chapter 20. When I was talking about Chapter 22, I refer not to this chapter, but to the next one. The story, as stated in the Introduction, has 26 chapters and an Epilogue. But, thanks to the introduction and the fact that Chapter 22 will be published in two chapters, the Epilogue will be chapter 29 (instead of 27) according to FF._**  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 21<strong>_

**A New Era**

For what seemed like a year, but were just a few seconds, no one said anything, and silence fell over the grounds and the castle.

Then Ron turned round and moved a few feet away, observing the barely-moving Death Eaters. At the same time, as if a charm had broken, a lonely scream of joy, of freedom, resounded in the air, and Hermione looked at the castle and saw Neville, running from the Entrance Hall towards them, his fist clenched and raised above his head in a gesture of victory.

"You did it! You did it, Ron, you did it! YOU BEAT HIM!" he bellowed. He reached Harry and Hermione and crushed both of them in a hug. And those words seemed to break some sort of spell, and soon everyone was laughing, and yelling, and hugging and kissing. And Hermione couldn't help herself, and felt the tears running down her face, and heard her own screams of joy, because it was over; after so long, after so much suffering, it was over at last. The war had ended, Voldemort was gone, and the Death Eaters were wounded or captured. They were free, and alive.

Once Neville had released her, Hermione was tightly embraced by Harry, and then by Ginny, and by all the Weasleys and Lupin and Tonks and many others from the Order and the DA. But after a while, she disentangled herself from the cheering people and looked at Ron, who was still in the same place, alone, watching everything with that emotionless expression of him.

"You did it, Ron. You did it," Harry was saying, approaching him and beaming. A lot of people were looking at him now, at Ron, the new hero of the Wizarding World, the most powerful wizard that had ever existed, the reason why it was over at last, and the reason they all were alive to see it.

"I told you I'd do it," said Ron. "Why are you so surprised? It wasn't that difficult after all. I could have beaten him with my hands bound."

"You're amazing," Mrs Weasley said, moving towards Ron. "You're amazing ... my son ..."

Ron ignored his mother and looked at Kingsley. "You'd better call a group of Aurors and take the Death Eaters to Azkaban," he ordered.

"What about the giants?" Kingsley asked, looking at the enormous stone statues.

"I'll give them a chance. If they behave, I'll let them free. Hagrid can act as our ambassador with them."

"Yeah!" Hagrid said, excited by the idea. "I'll do it, Ron! They can live in the Forbidden Forest with Grawpy..."

Professor McGonagall's happy expression turned into a scowl upon hearing this. "Umh, I'm not so sure about that, Hagrid. Don't forget they attacked the school!"

"I can control them," said Ron. "I can put a hex on them like the one I put on Alecto Carrow. If they misbehave, they'll turn into stone again."

Professor McGonagall sighed, and nodded, though reluctantly.

Kingsley called the Aurors, and they began to take the Death Eaters' wands and bind them so they could not escape, although, given their state, they were unlikely to run away. One by one, they were dragged to the castle. Hermione watched them moving Bellatrix Lestrange, who had begun to scream like a crazy woman, forcing one of the Aurors to silence her. Behind her, another pair of Aurors were escorting Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, who, contrarily to their relative, remained quiet.

"Is Draco all right?" asked Narcissa in a groggy and concerned voice when she passed near them. "Where is he?"

"He's locked up," Ron answered, staring at her. "You can see him before you are sent to Azkaban."

"I didn't do ... anything," Narcissa pleaded. "He made us come here ... I just wanted to see Draco."

"You helped to imprison innocent people in your house," Ron replied, without any sympathy. "Luna Lovegood is there. You helped Voldemort. Your husband cast the _Imperius _Curse upon Broderick Bode and then murdered him. You're not innocent."

"We had not ... another choice," she said.

"There's always another choice," Ron retorted, and made a sign to the Aurors to take the Malfoys inside. Then, he moved towards the giants, and, with a flick of his wand, he turned them back into living creatures.

Once they recovered their ability to move, they roared with rage and one of them made a gesture as if trying to smash Ron. But he waved his wand again and forced the giants to kneel before him and to put their hands behind their backs. Unable to move, the giants roared louder, trying, unsuccessfully, to get free.

"I'll set you free if you promise to behave," Ron told them. "I understand that, after the wars between wizards and your race, you chose Voldemort's side. But he's gone, forever, and in the new world, I am willing to give you a chance. I think it's possible for your race and mine to get along. Hagrid here is a half-giant. He will be the ambassador between us and you. Are you interested in my offer?"

"We want to be free," one of the giants said, with a guttural and rasping voice. "We not want to be slaves of wizards."

"You won't be slaves," Ron said. "You'll live according to your rules, but you'll have to behave. And that means no killing and no harming other creatures."

The giant grunted to the others in their strange language. After a few minutes, he addressed Ron again.

"Gurg have to decide."

"You don't have to obey anyone," Ron told them. "I'm offering this to any giant who wants to live in peace. The Minister will sign the deal."

"We like to live here."

"Then do it," Ron said, and, moving his wand, he released them and turned round to face Hagrid. "Hagrid, please, take them to the Forest, with Grawp."

"Righ' now!" he said, running towards the giants and motioning for them to follow him towards the Forest.

"I have to go for a moment, but I'll be back soon," Ron told Hermione and Harry.

"Why? Where are you going?" asked Harry.

"There's something I have to do," answered Ron. "I'll be back soon." And, without further explanation, he Disapparated.

Harry looked at Hermione, confused.

"Let's get inside," she said, shivering. "I'm freezing."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, and the both of them headed for the front doors.

The Entrance Hall was bursting with people. Some of them were Aurors, who were putting the defeated Death Eaters in custody; some others where students, who were jumping and screaming with joy and happiness; and some of them, to Hermione's delight, were house elves, also celebrating the end of the war and the defeat of the wizard who had been responsible for so much oppression and cruelty towards them.

An instant after they had entered the Hall, two elves were hurrying towards Harry and Hermione: Dobby, with two of Hermione's elf hats on his head; and Kreacher, with the fake locket hanging around his neck. Both of them hugged Harry's knees tightly.

"The Dark Lord is gone, Master Harry!" yelled Kreacher, almost sobbing. "Master Regulus would be so proud and happy!"

"Yes, Harry Potter!" shrieked Dobby, looking up with his ball-sized eyes. "Harry Potter and his friends had defeated the Dark Lord! Dobby always knew they were the greatest wizards ever!"

"We didn't anything, Dobby," said Harry, smiling. "It was all Ron."

"But Harry Potter gave people hope!" Dobby replied, blinking rapidly. "Harry Potter broke into the Ministry! Harry Potter and his friend released a lot of Muggleborns!"

"Well, I suppose so," Harry said, looking at Hermione and smiling.

"Well, now we have to go, Harry Potter, sir! Professor McGonagall wants us to send food to the Great Hall so we can celebrate a party! And then the house elves will join the students at the tables!"

"That's wonderful, Dobby," said Hermione with joy. "This is a great day for everyone."

"Kreacher will see Master Harry later," said Kreacher, bowing, and he left with Dobby.

"I think S.P.E.W. is growing on people," commented Harry, smiling at her.

"I don't think it's S.P.E.W.," answered Hermione, "but I'm glad they're being treated the way they deserve."

Both of them headed for the Great Hall.

The students were sitting randomly at the tables, not caring about whether they were sitting in their house table or not. Only some Slytherins seemed disgusted and were sitting together and in silence at their table.

Near the High Table, Kingsley was talking to Professor McGonagall. He saw Hermione and Harry and quickly moved through the Hall towards them.

"Where is Ron?" he asked them. "I think he should be here, in the celebrations. I don't have a lot of time, I have to give a complete report to the Ministry, and I'm sure that the press will want answers soon, too ..."

"He said he had to do something, but that he would be back soon," Harry answered.

"I don't think he cares about the celebrations," Hermione commented.

"The old Ron would have been delighted by all the attention," Harry said. "But you're right, the new one won't like this."

"You did your fair part in this victory," Kingsley told them. "You gave us hope when we didn't have any."

Neither Harry nor Hermione answered. Kingsley patted their shoulders and left, and the two friends joined the Weasleys at the Gryffindor table, where the food was beginning to appear.

The party began. In every place, happy chatter and laughs could be heard, mixed with the sound of goblets as their owners toasted to victory and freedom. The house elves joined the party, students making room for them on the benches, and even Firenze, the centaur that taught Divination, was there, enjoying the celebrations. Every now and then, some people would use their wands to send sparks towards the ceiling, causing more joy and laughs everywhere. The entire Hall was filled with happiness and delight.

But Hermione was not part of it, not really.

She was happy, yes, for the end of the war, and because no more lives had been wasted. But the joy she had momentarily felt had already dissipated. The end of the war meant that, soon, Ron would leave again, would leave her ... perhaps, forever. The horror of what Ron had done because of her was flooding her again. And besides, the life ahead of her was devoid of the happiness and love it had once had. For the rest of the people, tonight's victory was a promise of joy and possibilities. For her, it meant a solitary road of penitence for her mistakes and all the pain she had caused.

Across the table, Mrs Weasley wasn't as happy as she should be, either.

When the party had been running for twenty minutes, a very loud 'CRACK!' interrupted it, and every head turned towards the doors, where Ron had just Apparated. And, to everyone's surprise, he didn't come alone, but accompanied by Luna, Dean, Mr Ollivander — who seemed to have endured very bad times — Ted Tonks, another wizard Hermione did not know, and two goblins.

After the initial shock, Neville got off the table and ran towards Luna with open arms, closely followed by Ginny. Seamus was just behind them, and, as Neville and Ginny embraced Luna, Seamus hugged his best friend.

"I went to Malfoy Manor to rescue Luna and Mr Ollivander," explained Ron when Harry and Hermione joined the group to greet Luna and Dean. "And then I went for Dean and his group to bring them here."

"What has happened?" Luna was asking, astounded, as everyone hugged her. "Ron told us the war is finished and that You-Know-Who is gone —"

"And it is," Harry said, grinning, just as Tonks was throwing herself onto her father, who enveloped her in a very tight hug.

Kingsley was now there, too, and was politely inviting the goblins to sit and join the party. Then, as Luna was dragged by Ginny and Neville to the table, both of them talking to her very excitedly, and Seamus was doing the same with Dean, Ron turned towards Mr Ollivander, who seemed tired and unsteady.

"Sit down, Mr Ollivander," he told him, making him move towards the Ravenclaw table. "I'll take care of you in a second."

Ollivander complied, and Ron touched him with his wand. The old man glowed with a yellowish aura for a moment, and then, happily surprised, grinned at Ron and grabbed his right hand in his old ones. "Thank you, thank you, young man. For rescuing and healing me," he said, his eyes shining with tears of gratitude. "I owe you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it ... you just have to ask."

Ron nodded and turned towards Kingsley. "Is everything okay? Are all the Death Eaters in custody?"

"Yes — everything's okay, Ron. Now join us, let's celebrate the end of the war! You deserve the greatest honour —"

"I don't want anything of that," Ron cut in, coldly. "I did what I had to do. Now it's your time, Kingsley, and it's your duty to make sure this will never happen again, to make sure that the old prejudices are eradicated and the discriminating laws are abolished."

"I promise you," Kingsley said gravely.

Ron turned to Harry. "You should eat and enjoy the party," he said. "Afterwards, I'll take care of ... _your problem_."

Harry nodded, and the three of them made their way to Gryffindor table. But as they did, some people stood up, and looking at Ron, started to clap. More and more people followed suit and soon the Great Hall was filled with the noise of hundreds of people clapping at Ron. He stopped dead, looking around him, a bit taken aback. He seemed neither pleased neither disgusted with that sudden sign of gratitude. Harry was clapping too, and Hermione did the same, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes.

For the first time since his return, Hermione noticed that Ron seemed not sure of what to do. And then, a hint of a nervous smile, a _true_ Ron's smile, appeared on his mouth, and Hermione felt as if her heart could leap out of her chest. Merlin, how much she loved when he smiled!

But just a fraction of a second later, the smile vanished. The students stopped clapping and sat again, and Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way where the Weasleys were sitting. Harry and Hermione resumed eating. Ron simply drank a goblet of pumpkin juice and ate a bit of pudding. Hermione couldn't stop looking at him, hoping for another hint of a true smile, but none appeared. She knew that she shouldn't hope, that hoping was ridiculous and that it would only cause her more pain, but she couldn't help it.

"When are you going to get rid of the cup and the snake?" asked Harry, once he had finished the good portion of chocolate tart he had put onto his plate.

"I've already killed the snake," Ron answered. "Voldemort left it in Malfoy Manor, he didn't want to risk its life. I killed it before rescuing Luna and Ollivander."

"Good," said Harry.

"And the cup?" asked Hermione.

"Tomorrow," Ron said.

"Then you're spending the night here?" asked Hermione, hopeful.

"Yes, I'm staying here."

"Of course you are," interjected Mrs Weasley, who was sitting two seats to Hermione's right. "Where would you go?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Ron informed them all. The chatter, the sound of forks against plates and the laughs ended at once in that part of the table.

"Leaving?" Mr Weasley asked. "Where are you going?"

"Away," Ron responded.

"No!" Mrs Weasley shouted, standing up suddenly and startling everyone near them. "No! You can't! You left once, and it was like hell for us, Ron. You won't do it again!"

"You can't stop me."

"Ron, please..." begged Mrs Weasley. "Please, don't leave again."

"There's nothing more I can do here. I want to travel, to help other people. There's a lot to do out there."

"But we're your family!" Ginny bellowed. "We need you!"

"No, you don't," Ron replied. "I can offer nothing to you."

"And what about Hermione?" Ginny asked, surprising everyone, especially Hermione, who flushed crimson and lowered her gaze to the table, though she was sure that Ginny was just trying to make Ron stay, and that her feelings towards him were not her main concern in that moment. "Are you going to leave her?"

"There's nothing between her and me," Ron stated, glaring at Ginny. "I owe her nothing."

Hermione knew this, but tried not to cry again over it. She reminded herself of how much she had hurt him. He was better off without her. She had to be strong ... and go on.

"Now, if you're finished with the questions," Ron continued, "there is something that requires my attention." He looked at Harry. "Ready?"

Harry nodded.

"What are you going to do?" asked Ginny, frowning.

"You can come if you want," said Harry eagerly, glancing at her before looking at Ron again, asking silently.

"If she wants to come, she can," Ron said, shrugging, and he stood up. "Let's go, then."

"Ron — we need to talk, son," Mr Weasley said, also standing up.

"There's nothing to talk about."

Mr Weasley moved towards him and grabbed his shoulders in a pleading manner.

"Please, son ... Think about your mother."

"I do," Ron said, and put a hand on his father's shoulder. "I finished him off, I ended the war. I saved you. I wanted to save you all, and I did. You're free to enjoy your lives, and I'm fine. Everything's okay. Mum doesn't have to cry over any of us being injured ever again."

Mrs Weasley stared at Ron, her wet eyes filled with emotion.

"That's not what I'm referring to," replied Mr Weasley, though he seemed touched, "and you know it."

"Well, I'm not going to go back to The Burrow to degnome the garden or stuff like that," said Ron, a bit more sternly. "I won't be back to school, o apply for a job at the Ministry. I have much more important things to do. But you'll know about me, and see me ... eventually."

"That's not enough for us, for your family and friends."

"That's what I can offer. I have no friends and family ... well, it's not important for me. Sorry," he added, though without true remorse. Then, he turned round and headed for the doors. Mr Weasley dropped onto the bench, speechless and defeated. Hermione felt her heart sink for him and the rest of the Weasleys.

"I'm sorry," she said, as if that could change anything, before following Ron.

Harry caught up with her outside the Hall. Ginny was beside him, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"You're being an absolute prat, do you know?" she told Ron boldly. Hermione admired her nerve, considering that, less than an hour ago, Ron had defeated Lord Voldemort. "Why are you being like this?"

"I'm being what I am," said Ron. "I've already told that you don't have to like it."

"What happened last June was horrible to you, Ron," Ginny added, in a softer voice. "But Mum and Dad have nothing to do with it. If you forgave Harry and Hermione I don't understand why you're being like this towards us."

Ron was already climbing the first stairs of the marble staircase, and turned to face his sister. Hermione stared up at him. Would he tell them the truth he had revealed to her? Would he say that he could not feel love anymore? That the power he now had came with such a price?

"I haven't forgiven them," Ron said. "I don't care about it anymore; there's a difference. And I know very well you don't deserve this, Ginny, but that's how things are. It's not a matter of choice. I simply can't care. Not anymore. And I prefer it this way. Caring leads to pain, and, I assure you, I won't feel pain ever again," he explained, with an unreadable expression on his face, and turned round again. "Come on," he exhorted.

Hermione looked down at her feet as she began to climb the stairs. She could not look at Ginny, she couldn't. She had caused this, she and Harry, and it didn't matter that the war was over. She only felt misery.

"What are we going to do?" asked Ginny after a few minutes, as Ron led them towards the guest rooms' corridor.

Harry explained to her everything about his scar, his visions, his ability to speak Parseltongue and how all of it was related to the fact that a piece of Voldemort's soul lived inside him.

"You've been living with part of — of _him_ inside you?" asked Ginny, horrified.

"Yes," said Harry, nodding as they reached the Guest Rooms Corridor.

"But — but it can _possess you_!" Ginny yelled. "That's what happened to me, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But ... Well, it never possessed me, I think. I don't know why. In fact, I never knew it was there until Ron told me yesterday."

Ron opened his room's door and motioned for them to get in. Once they were all inside, he closed it.

"Sit down, Harry."

Harry sat on the bed and looked at Ron, expectant. "Will it hurt?" he asked.

"No," Ron answered, taking his wand. "Don't worry. About your scar ... do you want to keep it?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, not understanding.

"I can heal it, with the White Light," Ron explained. "Do you want me to?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. "Yes," he said, finally. "I don't want it. I hate when people stares at it. It is a reminder of painful memories. Make it disappear. But not the other, the one on my cheek, the one I got at the Ministry."

"Why?"

"It's the reminder of the first thing I did that was right in a long time, Ron. Leave it."

"I don't care about that. You know that, don't you? What you did was foolish and stupid. Just like what you did tonight."

"I did what I had to," said Harry.

Ron ignored that.

"Listen to me, because before I do anything, there's something you have to know."

"What?" Harry asked.

"It would be ridiculous to think that that piece of soul never affected you."

"Affected me? How?"

"I don't know," said Ron. "You see what Voldemort tried to do tonight. He tried to use what happened against us, he tried to separate us. Of course, it didn't matter, because I don't care anymore and I didn't need you to beat him. I knew he would try something like that. That piece of soul is like him, and it knows everything about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, you spent the last four months with two pieces of Voldemort near you. You were protected, during your life, by your ability to love, by your good heart. You've been an extremely selfless person. You were tempted with power and richness, and didn't want them. That has kept you safe from it. But last year ... last year you acted selfishly. Last year, you did something that, I'd say, is contrary to your nature."

Harry dropped his head.

I know, Ron, I —"

"Shut up," said Ron. "I'm not saying that you kissed Hermione because that piece of soul made you do it. A piece of Voldemort's soul cannot do that. But, for the first time, you were doing something you knew you shouldn't. For the first time, you were not completely protected. I'm sure that piece of soul used that against you."

"How?" asked Harry, who was shaking.

"I'm not completely sure. Maybe it tried to make you think that what you were doing wasn't so bad. Maybe tried to repress your regret, because, though you're full of remorse, Hermione's worse."

"Why?" Harry said. "Why wouldn't it want me to feel even worse than how I feel?"

"Regret can lead to forgiveness," said Ron, and fixed his eyes on Harry's, as if trying to see his soul through his eyes. "If you don't show remorse, that would make you even more hated, even more alone and unprotected. You regret, of course you do. Voldemort is not strong enough to prevent that, and he doesn't really understand forgiveness or remorse. But it can use your weakness, Harry, your mistakes. Deep inside of you, one part is glad, isn't it? That you took what you wanted."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "No, that's not true, I hate what happened, Ron, I do!"

"Yes, you do," said Ron, his penetrating eyes still fixed on Harry. "I know. And sometimes, that piece of soul, that poison inside you, cannot repress it, like when you spoke to your parents. But other times, it uses your misery against you, doesn't it? When you feel depressed, I'm sure it tells you that what you did wasn't that bad after all, because you were in love. It tells you that you had the right to do what you did."

Harry's eyes were now full of tears. "No, no, Ron, no."

"You know I'm telling the truth, Harry. It makes you think stuff, doesn't it? But those aren't your thoughts."

"Destroy it, please. Take it from me!" Harry begged, sounding desperate.

"I'll do it. But bear in mind that it may make you feel worse, Harry."

"I don't care!" yelled Harry, "I should feel worse, shouldn't I? I — I don't want to think that."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ginny. Both of them were astonished by Ron's revelations.

"Okay, then," Ron said, nodding, and touched Harry's scar with the tip of his wand. Harry closed his eyes.

"It won't hurt," said Ron. "But it can be a bit uncomfortable."

"Do it!"

"How are you going to do this?" Hermione asked, worried. "You had to use the Dark Shadow with the other horcruxes. You won't do that to him, will you?"

"Of course not," Ron said. "Harry isn't a proper horcrux, so it will be much easier. Besides, Voldemort is gone. The remaining horcruxes are now much less dangerous."

The wand's tip began to glow, and Harry tilted his head backwards, raising his chin. The scar seemed to become redder, and then Hermione saw it: something like thin strings of ink, pouring off the scar and floating in the air, trapped by the light cast by Ron's wand. This kept on for about twenty seconds, and then Ron moved his wand away from Harry. The strings of ink were coiling inside a ball of glowing light that was attached to the wand. Harry opened his eyes and looked at it.

"That's it?" he asked, disgusted. "That was inside me?"

"It's the physical form of a piece of soul that had been detached from the whole by corruption. Inside a body it has no form, as a soul is not physical, but outside its container, it looks like this."

In that instant, Hermione heard something like a distant scream of pain, and the strings of ink began to vanish until nothing remained of it.

"It's gone," said Ron. "It can't live outside its host, so it has been destroyed."

"So easily?" asked Ginny. "It's so simple to destroy a horcrux?"

"No," answered Ron. "If Harry were a true horcrux, the piece of soul could live outside him while he was alive. That's what happened when Riddle possessed you. But Harry was not a true horcrux, and so the piece of soul could no live outside him for long." The glowing ball of light in which Ron had trapped the piece of soul disappeared and Ron pointed it towards Harry's face. "The scar, then," he said simply, and a little amount of White Light flowed off the wand and touched Harry's scar. Harry closed his eyes again, his face showing a sudden delight, a feeling Hermione knew too well. For a moment, she wished to feel it again, running throughout her body, so she could taste Ron's love once more. But what good would it do? She wanted to feel Ron's love, but not just once, or twice ... she wanted it forever. And yet, she had no right to have it. In fact, having experienced it once more was like some kind of torture, because she had a taste of what she wouldn't get ever again, a constant reminder of what she had lost due to her weakness and stupidity.

Shaking her head, she stared again at Harry and Ron, and saw how the famous lightning scar on Harry's forehead vanished slowly. When the glow of the White Light disappeared Harry opened his eyes again and instinctively touched the now healed skin.

"It's not there," he said. "It's gone."

"Yeah, it is," Ron confirmed.

"I've always wanted to be a normal person," Harry commented, serious. "Now I finally can."

"You will never be a normal person," Ron replied. "You've done extraordinary things."

"Not as extraordinary as yours," Harry responded.

"What I've done these days? I had superior power and skill," Ron explained. "It was easy for me. I was much braver when we went to Aragog's lair, or when I stood against Sirius that night in the Shrieking Shack. What you did in that graveyard showed more bravery, too. I wasn't brave tonight. You can only be brave when you're afraid, and I wasn't afraid of him."

Silence fell over the room.

"And now what?" asked Ginny after half a minute.

"You can go back to the party," said Ron.

He had just said it when a mix of lights lit the sky outside. The people in Hogsmeade seemed to be celebrating the downfall of Voldemort. Ron walked slowly towards the window and looked at the sky through the glass.

Hermione noticed that Harry was looking at Ron's back. He seemed to be almost shaking.

"Harry?" she asked. "How — how do you feel?"

Harry started to shake more forcefully, as if trying to control the need to let out a sob. His eyes were wet.

"Oh, Merlin," he said, and Ron turned round and looked at him. "Oh, God!" He dropped onto his knees on the floor and put his hands over his face. "Oh, my God!"

"Harry, control yourself," said Ron. "Breath slowly."

"No, I can't. I can't bear it. Oh, God!" he uncovered his face and looked at Hermione, shame etched upon his face. "Oh, Hermione, what I did, what I did!"

"Harry, stop," said Ron. Ginny seemed shocked and a bit afraid.

"Ron, oh Ron! How could I? How could I?"

"We've been through this," said Ron emotionlessly. "Stop it, Harry! It's in the past now."

"No, no, it is not, it is not!"

"What's happening to him?" asked Ginny, frightened.

"He's experiencing part of his repressed remorse," explained Ron. "He can't sense some of the excuses that diminished it now, so it comes to him with full force. In, fact, those excuses are now making it even worse."

"Oh, Ron, Hermione! I'm so sorry! Oh, Merlin! How could I think that? How? How could I — how could I fall in — in love with — Oh, God!"

Tired, Ron took out his wand and pointed it at Harry.

"What are you —?" started to ask Ginny, but Ron didn't let her finish her question.

There was a white flash of light, and Harry fell backwards. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly a few times, and looked at them, a bit bewildered. He was no longer shaking.

"Better?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," said Harry, getting to his feet. "Yes, loads better. What did you do?"

"Call it a Cheering Charm," said Ron. "A weak one. Won't make you jump and laugh, but you'll feel better."

"But I don't — I —" Harry started to say.

"There's no point in having you wailing like a baby," explained Ron. "After a while, you'll realise that those feelings of 'I had right to do what I did' were not really yours, and you will feel a bit better, though not like before. What you did hasn't changed, after all."

Harry seemed speechless, though calm, and Ron turned round again and looked out of the window.

"A new era begins," he commented. "And there's still so much to do. You have still so much to do."

Harry, Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"There's so much to change," explained Ron. "You'll have to help them, Harry. Help the new Ministry to do things right, as you've done — well, _almost_ always." Ron paused and Harry stared at him. "And you, Hermione. You can do great things too. You can improve the lives of house elves. They deserve the right to decide if they want to be free, and I'm sure you'll achieve it. You've always been right about that. You'll change the world."

Hermione felt a rush of emotion surge inside her.

"You're speaking as if we weren't going to see you ever again," commented Ginny.

Ron didn't answer.

"We should go back to the Great Hall," she added dejectedly. "They'll be waiting for us."

"I don't want to go," declared Hermione. "I don't really feel like being in a party."

Ginny stared at her for a moment and then looked at Ron and asked tentatively "Ron?"

"I'm not going back."

"I'll go with you," said Harry, standing up.

Ginny nodded wearily and, with a 'see you later', they left.

Hermione fixed her eyes on Ron, who was still looking out of the window.

"Will Harry be all right?" Hermione asked.

"He will," said Ron. "Though I'm sure he's in for a rough night. He needs to feel the regret that he had bottled up inside him. It will never go away, though," he added. "I know you. You two did something terrible, Hermione, and you'll never stop regretting it."

"I know," Hermione said, looking at the floor. "I know, Ron."

"But I don't care now, and what you did shouldn't stop you from going on and live your lives."

They fell silent for a few minutes, and then Hermione looked up at Ron again.

"Ron ..."

"Yeah?" he said, without turning round.

"You wanted us to be with you tonight, when you confronted him." It wasn't a question.

Ron didn't answer immediately.

"Yes, I did," he confirmed after a few seconds.

"Why?"

"Because I needed you. Not to fight, but I needed you. You were right on that. And besides, you had the right to be there. You've been fighting for so long."

"I knew it," said Hermione. "If you had wanted to stop us, you could have done it."

"Yes, I could."

"Why did you threaten us, then? Why did you hurt Harry? Were you trying to test us?"

"No," said Ron, finally facing her. "I knew you would come except if I magically prevented you from doing it."

"Then?"

"I had my reasons."

"Which reasons?"

"Mine," Ron said, a bit harshly, and Hermione knew that asking would be useless.

"Are you going to keep your promise?" she asked after a moment.

He looked at her. "My promise?"

"You said, before the battle, that you'd explain to me what happened to you after you left."

"For old times' sake," added Ron.

"For old times' sake," repeated Hermione.

Ron turned round again and continued to look out of the window. Hermione awaited his answer, slightly anxious.

"I shouldn't."

"You said you would."

"Let's go to your room," said Ron at last.

They left Harry and Ron's room and got inside Hermione's. Once there, Ron sealed the door magically and sat on the chair. Hermione sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. She felt suddenly nervous, and waited for Ron to start speaking.

"There is a reason I don't like to talk about this, Hermione. You're not going to like it. Maybe you'll wish you had never asked. Are you sure about this?"

Hermione hesitated, but she was too curious. And, who knew? Maybe if she knew how Ron had become what he was, she would discover a way to help him become what he had been ... Or was Ron better off this way? Hadn't she caused Ron enough pain? But, on the other hand, how could anyone be well if they couldn't feel? And besides, his family needed him ...

She didn't know what she should do, but knew what she wanted. She deserved to know what she had caused. She deserved to live with the knowledge of how much she had hurt Ron.

"I want to know."

"Your choice," said Ron. He closed his eyes for a moment and clutched his wand tighter, and after a few seconds a silvery substance began to flow off his mouth and towards Hermione, who opened hers, taken aback by this unexpected display of magic. The substance formed some sort of spherical cloud, floating in the air, and stopped in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It will work like a pensieve," Ron told her. "Simply touch it, and you'll see it in your mind. Easier and better than talking, don't you think?"

With her heart beating rapidly, Hermione stretched her arm and, hesitantly, touched the substance.

Instantly, she felt something running through her arm and towards her head. She felt suddenly dizzy, the room seemed to blur and then everything faded out and darkness enveloped her.

* * *

><p><em>Well, there we go! The night of the third day, and, like the two previous nights, it's time to go back. This time, to see Ron's memories, the moment all of you were waiting for!<em>

_See you on Friday, with Chapter 22 - **The Long Journey (part I) **_


	23. The Long Journey part 1

Well, here it is! the moment you all were waiting for. The first part of Ron's memories, the secret of what he did.

This is not an easy chapter to read. The pain Ron's suffering is immense. His worst fear became true, after all, and what a worst fear it is!

You'll probably hate me for splitting this chapter, but I felt that it needed to stop in that point. It just felt right to me. Now, if you're ready, go on._**  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 22 (I)<br>**_

**The Long Journey (part 1)**

_The world was ending. Everything around him was crumbling; all he knew was falling apart ... because although what he was seeing _could not_ be true, it was._

_His girlfriend, his best friend, the only girl he had ever loved was snogging his other best friend there, just in front of him._

_The two people he trusted the most in the entire world were there, in front of him, kissing so passionately that hadn't even acknowledged his presence. He felt his heart sink, and his soul shatter, and then he saw them move away from each other just a moment before he let out a surprised, pained squeak that made them turn their heads towards him. Their eyes opened widely, and the horror of being discovered by him filled their faces._

_In a single second, Ron felt as though everything he was, everything he believed, had been destroyed._

_As in a dream, or a nightmare, he heard her muttering, "Ron. Ron this —"_

"_No, no, no, no," Ron said, shaking his head in denial. It was not possible. She had assured him, she had sworn to him that she didn't fancy Harry. And he had believed her ... And now this, his worst fear, the fear she had managed to erase, had become true, slapping him in the face, ripping his heart. "No, it can't be. No, please ..."_

"_Ron," he heard Harry — the backstabbing traitor — say. "Ron, I —"_

_And he snapped. Fury overpowered the rest of feelings inside him, and he began to yell, to shout at them, trying to erase the pain through anger, but to no avail. There was a horrible hole in his chest and nothing could fill it._

_Hermione tried to approach him, tried to explain — or to lie more? But he couldn't listen to her, nor hear her voice. Her voice, that once had delighted him, that once had reassured him, making him feel better, feel wanted and loved, now hurt him. Everything that voice had told him had been a lie, just a lie ..._

_Hating her, hating them and unable to stand seeing them anymore, he ran off, as quick as he could, trying to leave the pain behind him ... unsuccessfully._

_Taking an alternate route and some secret passages, he reached the Portrait of the Fat Lady, went into the common room and headed straight for his bedroom. Once there, he closed his curtains, cast and Imperturbable Charm on them and curled on the bed, without bothering to take his clothes off._

_The instant his head touched the pillow, he began to cry harder than ever in his life, his sobs getting louder and louder. Taking his wand again, he cast the _Muffliato_ Charm around him so no one could hear him crying._

_In his mind, he saw Hermione's face, her beautiful bushy hair and her dazzling brown eyes. He saw her smiling at him, kissing him, hugging him ... But those memories, that usually brought a grin to his face, only made the pain in his heart grow this time._

_His best friends, the people with whom he had shared the best moments of his life, had betrayed him. He was alone._

_He had been able to live without Hermione as his girlfriend before. But now that he had tasted what it was like to be with her, to be able to share everything with her, to hold and hug her — to kiss her ... he knew that he couldn't endure it. How could he see her, everyday, and not be able to do that anymore? How could he endure seeing her happy with Harry, seeing the two of them together? He knew he wouldn't be able to do so. It hurt too much._

_A sound disturbed him. Someone approached his bed, and, tentatively, tried to move away the curtains, but, of course, they couldn't._

"_R-Ron?" he heard Harry said, his voice muffled by the charm. "Ron, what —"_

"_Muffliato," Ron whispered, pointing his wand at himself. He didn't want to hear him. Instantly, Harry's voice was completely muffled, and he couldn't hear him anymore._

_Trembling with pain and rage, he pointed his wand at Harry's form. He could see his silhouette through the curtains. He gritted his teeth, thinking what curse he should use. Was the _Cruciatus_ Curse enough? But the image of Neville's parents, destroyed by that curse, appeared on his mind, and he lowered his wand, closing his eyes. He could never, ever use such a horrible curse. Besides, what good would that do? Hermione had chosen, was with him now. A curse wouldn't change that. He dropped onto the mattress again, and started sobbing again. He didn't know when Harry had gone to his bed._

_He didn't know how much time he lay there, curled, tears streaming down his face and wetting his pillow, unable to sleep, unable to do anything, because everything had lost its meaning. His life was destroyed, his dreams were shattered. The girl he loved and his best friend had stepped on them, crushing them ..._

_He wished he could hate her._

_But he knew, deep inside him, that no matter how angry he was at her, he couldn't. Not really. Even though she was not the person he had thought she was._

_Hours later, he fell into a light, disturbed slumber. And when he was awakened by the sound of the rest of the boys in the room getting up and ready to go to classes, he felt as tired as though he hadn't slept at all, so he decided that he wouldn't go to classes. Besides, he was sure he couldn't stand being in the presence of Harry and Hermione._

_Lying on the bed, he thought again about how much his relationship with Hermione had meant to him, how much he had relied on it. It had meant the world to him, and it hurt, it hurt horribly, to know that it had meant nothing to her. How many times would Harry and Hermione have kissed behind his back? When had this started?_

_Furious, he hit the pillow with his fist, letting out a scream. He didn't want to think about that, he had to stop thinking about that —_

_After a long time, he finally got off the bed and, after putting his clothes on, he left the deserted Gryffindor tower. Being careful, he exited the castle without being caught. Outside, the sun was shining, bathing the school grounds with its light, as if the weather wanted to mock him. He walked towards the other side of the lake, and wondered what he was going to do. What would happen when people found out? Would people mock him, or pity him? Ron wanted neither. And his family? What would his family do?_

_He sat on the ground, leaning against a rock, and watched the castle, the castle where he had lived so many things, so many adventures. But _they_ were present in every memory, and the reminiscence of every laugh, every talk, every moment, was now filled with sadness and the feeling of betrayal. It had been so wonderful to think about how unique, how extraordinary the friendship between the three of them was ... It had been so wonderful to feel that he was part of something so exclusive, so precious ... and now he wished he had never been part of it, because every moment of joy, of happiness, lived with them for the past six years seemed to be coming to him again, but this time carrying only sorrow and pain._

"_I want it to stop," he begged, sobbing again, clutching his chest as if he was trying to rip out his heart so it would stop hurting. "Please, make it stop ..."_

"_It will never stop," said suddenly a ghostly, cold voice behind him._

_With a quick movement, he drew his wand and stood up, turning round to face the person who had spoken, and pointed at them, ready to fight if it was necessary._

_He found himself looking at the oddest man he had ever seen. He was as tall as Ron, and seemed to be medium-aged. However, his deep black eyes were the ones of a much older person, of someone who had seen so many things for so many years. He was totally bald, and was wearing a strange black robe which seemed to be made of silk. His arms were hanging limply at his sides, and he had no wand in his hands. But the oddest thing was that he seemed not to be really there. Ron didn't know how that was possible, but it was the sensation the odd man transmitted._

"_Who are you?" asked Ron. "What do you want?"_

"_I want to help you," said the man, in the same ghostly voice._

"_Help me?" Ron asked, suspicious._

"_That is what I said," the man responded, walking slowly to his right. "You can consider me ... a guide. Your guide, if you want."_

"'_My guide'?" Ron said defensively. "What are you talking about? Who are you? What's your name? What do you want?"_

"_I do not have a name," the man said. "But if you need one, I suppose you can call me '_Omega'_."_

"'_Omega'?" repeated Ron. "What kind of name is that?"_

_The man shrugged. "As I told you, I do not really have one. But I am the last of my kind, so it suits me."_

"_Your kind?" asked Ron, more confused as the conversation progressed. "Aren't you a wizard?"_

"_I am not," said the man. "I have told you, I am ... a guide."_

"_If you're not a wizard, how are you here?" Ron asked. "Muggles can't see the castle."_

"_I am not a Muggle."_

_Now Ron was utterly confused._

"_Then what the hell are you, and what do you want?"_

"_I have told you I am a guide," he repeated. "And I want to help you."_

"_Help me with what?"_

"_With your problem, Ronald. A moment ago, you were pleading for it to stop, were you not?"_

_Ron gave a step back, frowning. "I don't know what you're referring to."_

"_Oh, but you do know," the man replied. "You want the pain to stop. You want to stop feeling that way. You want the heartache caused by their betrayal to go away. You want to stop feeling the pain that losing her is causing you."_

"_How do you know that?" Ron demanded, aiming his wand at him. "Have you been spying on me?"_

"_I know a lot of things," Omega said, with a gesture that resembled a smile, but was not a true one. "There is a way to stop the pain, Ronald. There is a way ... to stop loving her."_

"_I don't know how do you know about this, or what do you want, but I'm not in my best mood, and certainly, I don't want to talk about any of this with you," declared Ron, and turned to leave._

"_Listen to me, Ronald. You will not regret it. I swear I do not want to harm you. I just want to help."_

_Ron wanted to leave, but something stopped him. Would it be so bad to just listen? He had nothing to lose, didn't he? And, anyway, where would he go?_

_Slowly, he turned round again to face Omega._

"_Tell me what you _really_ are," Ron demanded, "and maybe I'll listen to you."_

"_I am a guide. It is everything you need to know."_

_Ron frowned. "Do you expect me to trust you when you're not telling me the truth?"_

"_I am telling you the truth, Ronald," Omega replied. "I cannot lie to you. My kind cannot lie."_

"_So you say," Ron replied. "Why can't you lie? It makes no sense."_

"_We know things. We are guides. We cannot lie. We cannot lie to guide you."_

"_But you're not telling me everything."_

"_I admit it. I can conceal things, but if I affirm something, it is always the truth. I am telling you all you need to know. I want to help you."_

_Ron studied him for a while, before asking, "And why do you want to help me? Why do you care about my problems? What do you gain from it?"_

_Omega didn't answer immediately. "You have a lot of potential, Ronald. The way you love that girl ... I do not want that potential wasted."_

"_Potential?" Ron asked, confused. "And why are my feelings for Hermione relevant?"_

"_Because you love her so much, Ronald. What you feel for her is almost unique, special and rare. You must know that your feelings for her will not go away. Loving her is part of your _Path_."_

"My Path_?" Ron asked. "What's that?"_

"_The way you are supposed to live your life, the things that are supposed to happen to you. Your nature, your essence, what defines you," Omega explained. "You are meant to love Hermione, Ronald. Your nature draws you to her. Call it your fate if you want."_

"_I don't believe in things like Fate," Ron replied._

"_It does not matter if you believe in it or not. The truth is that loving her is part of your Path. She's the one perfect for you, and therefore you will continue loving her, because it is in your nature. There is no other girl in this world that can truly replace her."_

"_That's ridiculous. It can't be true. It has to stop someday."_

"_It will not, and, deep inside, you know it. You have already realised that, Ronald. Your soul, your heart, knows that. Why do you think you feel that hole in your chest?"_

"_I don't want to talk to you about this!" Ron yelled. He didn't want to hear that. "You're not my friend. I don't know who you are!" he added, afraid of the things this mysterious man knew. "A guide! That doesn't mean anything to me!"_

"_You can try to ignore the problem, but it will not go away. Let me help you."_

"_No. This is my problem; it has nothing to do with you. It will go away. It has to."_

"_Are you trying to convince me, or you?" Omega asked shrewdly._

"_Leave me alone! This doesn't concern you! I'll be fine!"_

"_Maybe," Omega said. "Perhaps, some day, you will learn to live with it, or it may become bearable ... But no, it will not stop. Not really. Not now that you know how being with her is. Nobody can understand you like her, Ronald; nobody can make you feel what she makes you feel. Search if you want, but you already know it. Because you have envisioned yourself living with her, for the rest of your life. She is the love of your life, Ronald."_

_Ron's defiant look vanished, and he lowered his gaze, defeated and tired, but also angry._

"_The love of my life? Someone who betrayed me? Someone who lied to me for months?"_

_Omega just looked at him, not saying anything._

_"I can't live like this," Ron stated after a while. "I simply can't."_

"_But there is a way to make it stop," Omega continued. "There is a way for you to stop feeling love ... forever."_

"_There is?" asked Ron, staring at Omega._

"_Usually, that would be a terrible loss, but, in your case, it may be a blessing, because without love, the pain will disappear too."_

"_And this hole I feel in my chest?"_

"_It will go away, too," Omega nodded. "You will feel whole and in control again."_

"_Explain."_

"_Amongst all the magical secrets, there is this one we call _'the Source'_, Ronald, which is the greatest and most important of them all. It's a secret no one knows of, a secret that cannot be discovered."_

"_The _Source_?" repeated Ron. "What the hell is that? And if it is such a secret, how come you know about it?"_

"_Because it is my job to know about it," answered Omega. "The Source is the ultimate connection with Magic, Ronald. Not just something that lets you use magic, no, it is a connection with Magic itself, a fountain of such magical power and knowledge that no one can compare with its possessor._

"_But of course, to get such power, you have to give something. Nothing is free in this universe, Ronald. You have to sacrifice something. I am offering to help you sacrifice that love you do not want. That love in your soul will be the origin and the reason of the Source, and therefore you will not feel it again. You will not love again, and therefore you will not feel pain anymore. But you will know things you could never learn in this school, things no one else knows. You will have a power so immense that no one will compare to you."_

_Ron's mind was reeling. A fountain of power and knowledge? Could something like that be really possible? Though, stopping feeling love ... a blessing, or a curse?_

"_So, in short," Ron said, "I won't love, I won't feel pain, and I'll be much more powerful?"_

"_That is the idea," Omega answered._

"_It seems too easy, or too good," Ron commented. "And when something seems too good to be true, it usually isn't. I've learnt that the hard way."_

"_I have never said it would be easy," Omega replied. "To get your Source, Ronald, you will have to make sacrifices. You will have to endure pain, and work for it. It is something that will not happen in a day, or two. You will have to come with me, in a journey, far away, and it will take long, if you succeed."_

"_A journey?" Ron asked, confused. "And what do you mean by saying 'if you succeed'? Might I fail?"_

"_You might fail. As I have told you, you will have to endure sacrifice and pain. You cannot get a Source with a spell or a potion. It is a long and hard process, Ronald. And you have to really want it, to go through it knowing the consequences. You have to be willing to risk everything you are. You have to accept that you can never recover what you sacrifice."_

_Ron remained silent for a few minutes, staring down at the grounds, and then around him, taking in the castle and its surroundings._

"_Stop loving ... even my family?" he asked._

_Omega seemed to not want to answer the question. Ron turned his head and looked at him._

"_Even your family," Omega said finally. "Do you know what your mother's worst fear is?" he asked, and, before Ron could answer, he continued, "you dead; Percy dead; your father dead; Fred dead; George dead; Bill dead; Ginny dead." Ron closed his eyes, not wanting to hear that. "She sees that all the time, Ron. When she's in the house she looks at the clock every five minutes. But if you get the Source, you will have power to help them, Ronald. To save them. To ensure they survive this war."_

_Ron looked at the castle again._

_Help them ... save them ... And stop the pain ..._

"_But I can't leave," Ron said after few moments. "There's so much going on. They are fighting in this war. I cannot leave them. And Harry nee—" he stopped immediately, realising what he was about to say. For a moment, he had almost forgotten that he and Harry were no longer friends._

"_That is why I think you will succeed, and that your Source will be pretty powerful, Ronald. You have such a good heart," Omega complimented. "But, do you really think you are useful? Now? I do not want to be rude, boy, but you look awful. You are in too much pain. You are not in the best state of mind. However, if you come with me, if you get the Source ... then you will be _really_ helpful. The Death Eaters will not be a match for you. Not even Voldemort himself."_

_Ron stared at Omega, open-mouthed in awe. "_I_ shall be more powerful than _him_?"_

"_You will. I have told you, no one can compare with the possessor of the Source."_

_Ron didn't say anything for a while, and then told Omega, "I'm not sure. This is too strange, too weird. I don't really know anything about you."_

"_You know all you need."_

"_No, I don't," replied Ron, realising he had said too much and that this man was a stranger, though he seemed to know more things than the closest of friends. The suspicious look appeared on his face again and he glared at Omega. "You've told me you were a guide, but that doesn't mean anything to me. You say you're neither wizard nor Muggle. What are you, then? You've told me you're keeping things from me, but that you aren't lying. However, I don't know anything about you, so I don't trust you. And lastly, I cannot simply leave, it doesn't matter how much I'd love to do so. So I'm sorry, but I think I'll decline."_

"_Things are going downhill, Ronald. Voldemort is getting stronger."_

"_We have Dumbledore," said Ron._

_Omega stared at him._

"_You have," he said at last._

"_And he told — he told Harry ab— Well, he trusts Harry," Ron said, realising that he had almost spoken about the horcruxes._

"_I know about the horcruxes, Ronald," Omega said, and Ron opened his eyes wide in astonishment._

"_WHAT! How —?"_

"_I have told you, I know a lot of things. Do you think that, if I were an ally of Voldemort's, I would know about them?"_

"_I suppose you wouldn't," admitted Ron._

"_Dumbledore trusts Harry; and you; and Hermione. But Dumbledore counted on you three being together, Ronald, like you have always been. But now you are not united. Not anymore. Now you are weak."_

_Ron lowered his head. He didn't know what to think, he was too confused._

"_Think about it," continued Omega. "If you change your mind, just call me and I shall come." And with that, he simply vanished, as though he had never been really there._

_Ron stayed there for a long time, simply staring at the point where that strange person had stood, unsure about what to think. Could they be true, the things he had told him? Would it be possible to stop feeling love ... forever? Could it be some sort of trick? But the truth was that that man had disappeared in Hogwarts, something that was impossible ... He thought about his strange behaviour, his odd looks and his even odder talking style. Who — or _what_ — was he? Was he trustworthy? He had just learnt that he couldn't trust those that were close to him. Could he trust a stranger?_

_How did he know about the horcruxes, or about his feelings towards Hermione? Was that really true, that he could never get over her? Was he doomed to feel that hole in his chest for the rest of his life?_

_He kept walking around for hours, thinking about everything. He was conscious that he was hungry, but the thought of eating and get a sight of her in the Great Hall almost make him sick. It was late, near dusk, when he walked back to the castle and to the common room. He reached the Portrait and climbed inside, hoping that no one was there, so he could sneak into his dormitory without being seen._

_But luck was not on his side._

_He spotted Hermione, sitting on an armchair, and froze on the spot, unable to move. God, she was so beautiful it hurt. Seeing her hurt, hurt even more than the day before. It was too much ..._

"_Ron —" he heard her say. His name in her lips was like a knife to his heart. And she seemed worried about him. But it couldn't be. She didn't care about him. He tore his eyes away from her and tried to move again. "Ron, please. Talk to me."_

_Ron felt vicious anger surge inside him and whirled around to face her. "Talk? Talk about what, Hermione? Shouldn't you be s-snogging your new boyfriend?" He clenched his fists in anger and resumed walking, but, just in that moment, Harry walked in._

'Excellent,'_ Ron thought. _'My day cannot get better.'

_Harry hesitated for a moment, surprised to find Ron there, and then explained about Dumbledore, about going with him to get another horcrux and about Malfoy achieving something ... And then he looked at him, as if asking. "Ron —"_

"_Shut up."_

"_Hit me," he heard Harry plead. "Break my nose. Slap me. Kick me if you want. I deserve it and Merlin knows I won't defend myself."_

_Ron clenched his fists. Oh, how much he desired to do just that! How much he would love to break his nose and then curse her! But, what good would that do? And there were more pressing matters. Harry had to do what he had to do. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax and to be selfless, to think about the greater good._

"_Dumbledore's waiting for you," he said simply, after opening his eyes. "I would want nothing more than to curse you both, but this is not the moment," he stated. "I'll help you," he declared, surprising them, and then added, as sort of an explanation, "My sister is here. I'm not doing it for any of you."_

_Harry moved to go away, but he was stopped by Hermione hugging him. The sight almost made him sick, so he lowered his gaze and stared at the floor. When Harry left, Hermione turned to face him again. "Ron —" she tried once more._

"_I don't want to hear anything from you," he said harshly. "Use your galleon to summon help."_

_Hermione looked at him for a moment, and then did just that, while Ron sat on one of the armchairs. He felt Hermione's gaze on him, but tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore it._

'I want the day to end,'_ he thought, nearly desperate. _'I can't stand this — I can't stand her!'

_And then Hermione tried to speak to him again, and he began to yell, trying to drown his angst in anger. Full of rage, he told her that she looked like she was in love with Harry, the way they had kissed. Hermione, flushed and seemingly ashamed, didn't deny it, and something inside Ron died. The pain that he thought could not be stronger, grew, and he looked at her, tears in his eyes. Everything had been a lie. The hatred inside him filled his soul and mind. He would never forgive her. He wanted not to see her ever again, because it was too hurtful, too unbearable._

_But just in that moment, before he could say anything more, Ginny, Neville and Luna walked in the common room. After an uncomfortable and embarrassing moment, when Ginny looked at them knowing that they had been rowing, Hermione explained everything to them. "— so we need to make two groups: one to watch out Snape's office and another to watch out the Room of Requirement," she concluded._

_Ron made his decision. He had to make sure he was not going to be with Hermione._

"_I'll go with Ginny and Neville to the Room," he said. "Luna, you and Hermione can go to Snape's office."_

_Hermione gave them one sip of Felix Felicis, and the groups parted._

_Ron waited, with Neville and Luna, outside the Room of Requirement for what seemed like an hour. Ginny tried to ask him about what was happening between him and Hermione, but he ignored her questions, his mind wandering from thoughts about Hermione, about how painful it was to see her, to be near her; to the things Omega had told him. If really, really there was a way to stop feeling ..._

_He was deep in his thoughts when the door of the room opened, instant obscurity descended upon them and all hell broke loose._

_Soon they were fighting for their lives against a bunch of Death Eaters, Fenrir Greyback included. Ron duelled as hard as he knew and could, trying, above all, to protect Ginny and those he loved and cared for. _

_But as hard as he knew was not enough, and, after the battle had finished and the Death Eaters had fled from the castle, he found himself helping to carry Bill to the hospital wing, his face horribly wounded and bloody. Greyback had attacked him savagely and he hadn't been able to do anything, even with the help of Felix Felicis._

_He stood there, watching silently while madam Pomfrey did her best to heal the cursed wounds the werewolf had inflicted upon Bill's face. He had fought, but it had not been enough to protect his family. His knowledge and his power ... were not enough._

_He saw Luna and Hermione walk into the hospital wing, followed by Lupin and Tonks, who were carrying Neville. Ron kept his eyes on Bill, not wanting to look at her, even though he was relieved by the fact that she was all right._

_But then, Harry and Ginny came into the room, too, and he couldn't help watching how she thrown herself at his arms, how he embraced her, how she hugged him ... And another wave of pain flooded him. Then Hermione tore her gaze from Harry and looked at him, but he couldn't bear it and lowered his head, staring again at Bill._

"_Dumbledore is dead," announced Ginny suddenly, and Ron stared at her, surprised, confused ... and a bit terrified. It was not possible ... Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard alive, he couldn't be dead ..._

_Almost in a daze, he saw his parents walk into the room, the expression on his mother's face almost unbearable to him. And saw Hermione and Harry standing there, together. They were no longer embracing, but that didn't matter. There was no more Ron and Hermione, there was no more a trio. It was Harry and Hermione now, or so it seemed, and he was alone, alone with his sorrow and his pain. Hermione looked at him again, and they held their gazes for a few seconds, and then Ron realised that Omega had been right, that she was the only one for him, that he could look forever and would never find anyone who could replace her or fill the void in his soul. He didn't know how he knew that, but he knew._

_Hermione, it seemed, didn't have that problem. She had moved on, perhaps, to where she had always wanted to be ... That thought was like a stab in his heart._

_A sudden outburst from Fleur drew their attention. He turned his head towards her and saw the Veela take the ointment from his mother's hands and begin to put it over Bill's face, softly and lovingly. He could hear the others talking, and something about Tonks being in love with Lupin, but he could not take his eyes from the way Fleur was tending to Bill. Not long ago, he had had the same thing, he had had someone who cared for him, who would have done this to him ... or so he had believed._

_But now he was alone, he had no one — he had never had, not really, because it was evident that Hermione was in love with Harry — and it hurt. It hurt so much it was killing him._

_Not being able to stay there anymore, he left, without another glance at Hermione and Harry. And once he was outside the hospital wing, he started to run, away from his family, away from them, towards Gryffindor tower and the comfort and privacy of his bed._

_He climbed through the portrait hole and, without answering any question thrown at him by the students in the common room, Ron hurried across it towards the stairs and straight into his dormitory. Once there, he threw himself on the bed and was closing the curtains around it when a cold, strange voice startled him._

"_Have you changed you mind, Ronald?"_

_Startled, he moved away the curtain and saw Omega, standing near Harry's bed, facing him._

"_What are you doing here?" Ron asked. "How did you —?"_

"_That is not important," Omega cut him in. "Have you changed your mind?"_

_Ron looked away from him. "Go away! I don't want to talk to you ... I don't want to talk to anyone."_

"_What happened tonight is just the beginning, Ronald. Now that Dumbledore is dead nothing can stop Voldemort from seizing control of the Wizarding World."_

"_Go away!" Ron yelled, and Omega, without another word, vanished._

_Ron thought again about what he had been thinking before, about not being powerful enough, about not being good enough to save his family. What if Ginny and he had not drunk _Felix Felicis_? Maybe they would be dead now, with their mother crying over their corpses —_

You dead, _he heard again Omega's voice; _Percy dead; your father dead ...

_He shut his eyes tight to force the thought away._

Felix Felicis_. It had been Harry who had given it to them. Harry, always Harry. Harry, who had saved Ginny from Riddle; Harry, who had cast a Patronus and had saved Hermione, Sirius and him, Ron; Harry, who had won the Triwizard Tournament; Harry, with whom Hermione had fallen in love ... _

_Maybe that was the reason, maybe Hermione loved Harry more because she believed that he, Ron, was not enough, despite all the things she had told him at Slughorn's Christmas Party._

Probably, _he thought bitterly. And now he had to face the fact that he could never really get over her. What was the point in being able to feel love, then? So he could suffer forever? Wouldn't it be better to stop suffering and being able to save his family?_

_He sat up on the bed. "Omega," he said tentatively._

_Omega appeared before him at once._

"_I am here, Ronald."_

"_That thing, that Source ... would make me powerful?" he asked._

"_More than anyone else," Omega answered._

"_What I'd have to do to get it ... would take long?"_

"_It will. There is a long journey ahead of you if you decide to try," Omega explained. "A long and hard journey."_

"_Had anyone else done it before?"_

"_Completely, just one person," Omega said without further detail. "Long time ago. Others have tried, but gave up."_

"_The one that completed the journey ... did he, or she, succeed in getting the Source?" Ron asked, a bit afraid._

"_He succeeded," Omega answered. "But you will be much more powerful if you get yours, Ronald."_

_Ron closed his eyes, feeling the tears in them, and saw again Hermione, in a close embrace with Harry. The pain was too much. Anything would be better than feeling that. Anything._

"_This is true, isn't it?" he asked. "It's not some sort of trick?" he demanded, but, as the words left his mouth, he realised he didn't really care. It would be a blessing to be away, away from them, from the painful memories, from everything that connected him to his old life. If it were not for his family, he wouldn't hesitate. And yet, with that power, his family would be safe ..._

"_It is," Omega said. "I have told you that I cannot lie, Ronald. I know that you have doubts. But even if you do not complete it, the journey will teach you things about your powers you had never imagined. The journey is long; you can come back if you want."_

"_I don't know what to do. I can't help my family now. But ..."_

"_You can have doubts during the Journey, Ronald, and even come back if you want. But you must be sure in the end. Only if you are willing, completely willing to make the sacrifice, without any doubt, can you get the Source."_

"_What should I do if I wanted to go with you? Should I pack?"_

"_You do not need to pack," Omega answered. "The only thing you can take with you is your wand, your cloak and a rucksack with food."_

_Ron stared at him, blinking rapidly, speechless._

"_Food?"_

"_You can take it from the kitchens," Omega said. "Wait until everyone is in bed and then meet me in the grounds outside the front doors if you want to do it. I will be there waiting for you whenever you decide to come, if you decide it."_

"_And what if someone sees you?"_

"_Don't worry about that," Omega explained. "I hope I'll see you later, Ronald," he added, and vanished._

_Was he going to do that?_

_Ron took the cloak from his trunk, closed the curtains around the bed, Imperturbed them and lay flat on the quilt, his head full of thoughts. Was he doing the right thing?_

It doesn't matter,_ a voice told him. _Anything's better than this, than seeing them together. Anything will be better than the pitiful glances, or hearing the Slytherins sniggering at me. I am a victim of a terrible betrayal, but I won't act like a victim. I won't! I'll fight for me, I'll do this for me and for my family. Maybe I won't love them like now, but that's preferable than seeing Mum crying over another of us. She lost her brothers in the other war; she can't lose us in this one.

_He thought about what Harry and Hermione would think, or do, once they knew he had left. Then his thoughts drifted towards his family again. They deserved to know ..._

_He took a piece of parchment, quill and ink and, slowly, wrote a letter to Ginny. He was finishing it when he heard Dean and Seamus' hushed voices in the room as they got ready for bed. He put the letter in an envelope and wrote 'Ginny' over it. He was going to send it to Ginny's bed, but stopped. He hadn't taken his decision yet, had he?_

_He lay down again and waited for he didn't know how long, his head spinning, still unsure of what he was going to do, until he heard Harry walking in. He noticed him stopping beside his own bed. Harry touched the curtains, as if he wanted to pull them apart, just like the night before, but, of course, he couldn't. For a moment, the two of them stood there, immobile, silent, the velvet curtain standing between them as a metaphor of everything that separated them now. For a moment, Ron thought about parting the curtains and ask him why, how. For a moment, he wanted to know if he had succeeded, if Dumbledore and he had got the horcrux. For a moment, he thought about the burden Harry must feel on him now that the headmaster was gone —_

But he has Hermione now, _he reminded himself. _They're a couple now. He has her and it is obvious that he doesn't need me. Never has.

_And then the moment broke, and he heard Harry heading for his own bed. Ron heard him change his clothes and slip under the blankets, and silence fell over the room._

_All his doubts had vanished now._

_Ron waited another hour, and then peeked through his curtains. Everyone seemed to be sleeping, so Ron got out of the bed, put his cloak on and took his rucksack and Ginny's letter. Without making a sound, he left the room and descended the stairs. The common room was empty, so he hurried towards the portrait, exited the room and walked through the castle, paying attention to the slightest sound, not wanting to be heard or seen by anyone._

_He made his way to the kitchens, where only two house elves were awake, tending to the fire in the fireplace. They looked up at him when he entered._

"_Goodnight," Ron said._

"_Goodnight, sir," one of the elves said, hurrying towards him. "What can we do for you, sir?"_

"_I need food," Ron explained, showing him the rucksack. "I need something that doesn't go bad soon."_

_The elf nodded vigorously, anxious to be useful, and soon he and his companion were bringing him a lot of salad meat and bags with fruits._

"_The fruit won't go bad as long as you keep it in these bags, sir," the elf explained._

_Ron used his wand to shrink the food so he could put as much as possible inside the rucksack. Then, he thanked the elves, who bowed at him, and left. He crossed the Entrance Hall, opened the oak doors and climbed down the front stairs. Omega was there, waiting for him._

"_Ready?" he asked._

_Ron took Ginny's letter and, with a wave of his wand, sent it to her bed._

Forgive me, Gin, _he thought. _Forgive me. Everything'll be better when I come back, I promise.

_Wiping away one tear, he looked at Omega and nodded. "I'm ready," he added, gulping. He didn't feel ready at all. Omega began to walk towards the gates, motioning for Ron to follow him. Ron opened them, and Omega stepped outside the school grounds. Ron looked back, at the castle, thinking for a moment about everything that had happened in it, about every adventure he had lived there. And finally, he thought of Hermione, about their kisses, about their walks and their moments. He felt the tears welling in his eyes and turned round, not knowing if he would see the school again, and walked out of the grounds and towards the unknown._

_Following Omega's instructions, Ron Apparated in a deserted, moonlit beach near Dover. He looked around and spotted the black figure that was Omega a few yards away from him._

"_Why don't we do Side-Along Apparition?" Ron asked, "It will be simpler if we are going to travel together."_

"_I cannot do Side-Along Apparition," Omega explained. "I am not a wizard, I have told you, so I cannot do magic. I can appear or disappear wherever or whenever I want, but nothing more."_

"_Oh," said Ron. He wanted to know _what_ exactly Omega was, but he didn't seem keen to talk about the subject. "What are we doing here?"_

"_Here is where your Journey begins," Omega said. "And now hear me, because this is very, very important. If you want to succeed, you will have to do exactly what I tell you to do, without questions. Do you understand?"_

_Ron stared at him and nodded, a bit hesitant._

"_This Journey, Ronald, is about magic, feelings, and self-sacrifice," Omega continued. "Those three things are the key to get your Source. We shall travel, far away, and as you endure the difficulties of the journey, you will explore, more and more deeply, your feelings and your magic."_

_Omega turned towards the moonlit sea, and spoke again, "Now I want you to sit on the sand, and stare at the sea. And whilst you do that, I want you to think about her."_

"_What?" Ron asked, startled. "Think about her staring at the sea? What for?"_

"_I have told you you would have to follow my instructions without question. So sit down, stare at the sea, and think about her."_

_Reluctantly, Ron did as told, and stared at the almost calm sea, and thought about her, about Hermione, about the first time he had seen her, with her bushy hair, long teeth and bossy voice, in that compartment in the Hogwarts Express, so long ago ..._

"_Unleash your emotions, Ronald," Omega told him. "Do not hold back anything."_

_Ron didn't. And for hours, he simply stared, the soft sounds of the waves calming the stress and pain caused by the memories. He noticed that his cheeks were soaked by tears, but it didn't bother him. He let them spill and run, wishing they could cleanse his soul and fill the hole in his chest._

_o o o_

_The first light of the sun awakened him. Slowly, not understanding where he was, he sat up, blinking quickly. He looked around him and spotted Omega, standing near him, and he remembered everything._

"_I fell asleep," he said apologetically._

"_You were supposed to," Omega replied. "Do not worry. How do you feel?"_

"_Tired," Ron answered._

"_And inside?"_

"_Hurt. Lonely. Sad."_

"_We shall Apparate to the continent, to France," Omega explained. "There is where the true Journey begins."_

"_I'm hungry," Ron said. "Can't we —?"_

"_You will not eat until dusk," Omega said, cutting him in. "And that is a rule you will follow from now on. Just one meal a day, at dusk."_

"_What? You must be kidding!" Ron protested._

"_I am not. Self-sacrifice, Ronald."_

"_I'm beginning to regret this," Ron muttered._

"_Are you?" Omega asked. "Do you want to go back, then? Do you want to go back and see them? To feel useless?"_

"_I'm not useless," Ron retorted, angry._

"_It is true, you are not," Omega said. "But you feel like you are. Hermione boosted your self-confidence, but after what happened, you feel unworthy. You need this Journey, Ron, not just to be over her, but to find yourself, to prove to yourself how extraordinary you are, and that you can do anything."_

"_But it seems too hard," Ron complained. "I don't know if I —"_

"_It will be a lot harder before it ends, I can assure you that," Omega interrupted. "But you will do it. I believe in you, Ron, that is why you are here. You can do this. Maybe only a few dozens of people in the world could do it, and you are one of them, because you are determined, because you are strong, but you have to prove it to yourself."_

_Ron sighed. "Okay, then." He didn't have another option. Going back was not a choice. Not after the battle, not after the betrayal._

"_Before we move to France, I want you to know that you will be doing magic constantly," Omega said. "You will use magic for everything you do except if I tell you explicitly not to. You need to become one with your magic, Ronald. You need to feel it, to be inside it. Do you understand?"_

_Ron nodded._

"_Then, for starters, I want you to conjure a big, thick fleece blanket."_

_Ron stared at Omega, and then, slowly, he took his wand and tried to do it. He didn't succeed._

"_Try again."_

_Ron tried once more, and then another time, but to no avail. He grunted, frustrated. "I knew how to do this," he complained. "I could!"_

"_What is stopping you, then?"_

_Ron thought for a moment, and then said, "Hermione helped me with Conjuring Spells."_

"_Then think about her whilst you do it."_

"_I can't," Ron said, sad. "It makes it harder, because I can't help thinking that everything ... everything was a lie."_

"_But it was not, was it? I mean, she taught you how to do it. That was not a lie," Omega argued. "You can do it, and I want you to. Try again until you get it."_

_And Ron tried, and tried, and tried. After half an hour he managed to conjure a blanket, but it was too small for Omega's liking. "You are improving," he encouraged him. "Keep going, Ronald."_

_And Ron continued, waving and flicking his wand until his wrist went sore, but finally, after two hours, a perfect, thick and large fleece blanket lay before him. He noticed he was sweating._

"_Good job, Ronald," Omega said. "Now Vanish it."_

"_What?" Ron yelled, confused. "After how much it cost me to Conjure it, you want me to Vanish it?"_

"_That's what I want," Omega said. "You can Conjure it again when you need it. Right now you do not."_

_Frustrated and angry, Ron moved his wand and the blanket vanished._

"_And I want you to stop muttering the spells," Omega added. "You need to become one with your magic. Do not think about spells or charms, simply tell your magic what you want to do."_

"_I don't know how."_

"_With practice, you will discover it," he told him. "Now get ready. We are Apparating to a place called Dunkerque, on the other side of the Canal. Our Journey begins."_

_So Ron Apparated there, leaving Great Britain for the second time in his life, and noticed he was on another beach, near Dunkerque, where Omega was already waiting for him. Ron looked at him, waiting for instructions._

"_Before we start our travel, I must tell you that they are going to try to find you, probably by sending owls."_

"_I don't want to be found."_

"_I supposed so. There is a spell you can use to prevent that from happening. It is _'Abscondo me'_. You will have to use it every day. It will hide you, so any one — or anything — looking for you will not be able to find you. It is not very powerful, but it will prevent owls and simple methods of searching from finding you. Simply wave your wand around you and utter the words."_

_Ron did as told, and felt a ripple in the air surrounding him._

"_Now, Ronald ... we walk."_

"_Walk?"_

_Omega nodded and began to move, though _gliding_ was a more accurate description. Ron followed him._

_And so, every day, they would walk and walk until dusk. Then, Omega let him eat something, always using magic to augment the quantity, but never letting him eat until he was absolutely satiated. Carrying water was forbidden, so he had to use the _Aguamenti_ charm and Conjure a goblet to drink. After that, Omega made him think about Hermione. Every day ended with Omega ordering him to Conjure the blanket and sleep. Next day, at dawn, he'd get up and they'd Apparate to another location to begin with the daily ritual._

_The days passed, slowly, taking their toll on Ron, who had to endure long walks under the summer sun, which was much hotter in the continent that what he was used to in Britain. He didn't get enough sleep or food at night, and his feet ached continuously._

_After a few days, Omega began to order Ron to use magic to heal his feet, and to carry his rucksack with charms instead of wearing it on his back. He made him use spells and charms to cross rivers, to protect himself from the water when it rained, and to make a fire when it was cold at night. Ron had never endured such a terrible existence._

_But he had to admit that, in a way, he felt a bit better, more in control. The physical toll of the Journey kept at bay the pain of losing Hermione, preventing it from overwhelming him, though it was always present. He was discovering himself, realising that he was really good at magic when it was needed._

_The days went by, and as they did, farther and farther Ron and Omega travelled, across Central Europe and the Balcanic peninsula, from where they Apparated to Turkey. They continued travelling from there, always towards the East, until, almost four weeks after leaving Hogwarts, Ron found himself on the cold top of a mountain somewhere in Nepal, facing the high, snowy mountains of the Tibet._

_Ron had his cloak around him to protect himself from the cold wind. He felt incredibly tired, yet, in a sense, stronger than ever, although he has lost a good amount of weight due to the constant walking and lack of proper meals._

"_The first part of the travel ends here," Omega said, and Ron turned to look at him. He was wearing the same black robe from the first day, as he had done during the entire journey. The cold seemed not to affect him. Ron had never seen him eat or drink, and, wherever they found people, no one seemed to be able to see him. Ron had to use Disillusionment Charms a lot of times, but Omega had never used anything like that. Ron wondered frequently _what_ exactly Omega was and what were his real intentions. "Now the real training begins."_

"_It's going to be harder than the travel, I reckon," Ron commented gloomily, looking again at the impressive mountains that awaited them._

"_Much harder," Omega answered._

"_Great."_

"_You have improved your magic, Ronald. Having to use it constantly for the last weeks helped you a lot. As your body grows more and more tired, your magic takes over. You are more connected to it, more aware of it, than ever before. Now you do magic sometimes without even realising it."_

_It was true. Omega had ordered him to always carry the wand in his hand and to use it, and he had done so. As the travel progressed, he began to trip more frequently while walking due to the tiredness and the lack of sleep. But he had learnt to use magic to stabilize himself before actually falling, and more times than not he did it unconsciously._

"_Today, you will rest," Omega announced. "You will eat, you will drink. And tomorrow ..." he stared at the high, distant mountains, "the mountains await us."_

_Ron conjured a fire to warm himself. Every time he did it, he couldn't help remembering the bluebell flames Hermione used to conjure during their first year at Hogwarts. And every time, a feeling of longing, of homesickness, washed over him._

_He sat near the fire and, for the first time in weeks, he ate until he was truly satiated. However, his stomach had now adapted to being usually empty, and seemed reluctant to accept large amounts of food like before. Once he had finished, he put the blanket over him and drifted off quickly, his body needing a good rest after the long and tiring travel._

_He woke up in the evening due to the cold. The sun has set already and the fire was not enough to warm him. He took his wand and lit another fire on his other side, before casting a Warming Charm under his blanket._

_He looked up, at the starry sky, and wondered how his family was, how they were coping with his absence. And Hermione and Harry ... Would they miss him? Would they wonder where he was? Would they care?_

_He sighed and rolled to his side. He might be thousands of miles away from her, but the hole in his chest was still there. Always there._

"_She never cared about me, did she?" he asked. "You seem to know how I feel. Do you know that too?"_

_Omega didn't answer._

"_No, she never cared, not really," Ron added, seeing that Omega didn't seem to want to talk. "Maybe as a friend. And not much, seeing how she was having an affair behind my back. I don't understand. I believed we were happy. Was I so blind?"_

_Omega remained silent, and Ron looked at him._

"_Why don't you say anything? You can't stop talking about my feelings. Why don't you answer me?"_

"_I'm your guide, Ron. I talk to you about what you need to know. I will not talk about Hermione's feelings."_

_Ron didn't say anything more, looked away from Omega and after a while fell asleep with a tear rolling down his cheeks._

_Omega woke him at dawn next day. Grunting, he stood up and yawned, tightening the blanket around him._

"_Time to go," Omega informed him._

_Ron put out the fires he had Conjured and lifted the rucksack with his wand. "Where are we heading for?"_

"_Those mountains," Omega said, pointing towards the South."_

"_No eating, I assume," Ron commented._

"_No eating," Omega confirmed._

_Ron sighed, and felt a sense of dread upon looking at the impressive mountains._

"_George was injured last night, Ronald."_

"_WHAT?" Ron asked, whirling around to face his guide. "What happened? How's he?"_

"_The Order moved Harry from Privet Drive," said Omega. "George was part of the mission. He's okay, but it could have been fatal."_

_Ron stared at the mountains, clenching his fists with rage. "I should have been there."_

"_No," said Omega. "Nothing would have really changed. But you can stop this, Ronald. Keep going, boy, get your Source. You want it, and you have what is needed to get it. You will be able to protect your family, and your sufferings will end."_

_And so they began to walk, descending first and then ascending, higher and higher. It was near dusk when they reached the point where the ground was covered in snow. The wind was freezing, and Ron's face and hands were almost numb. But Omega didn't seem to have the intention of stopping. The sun set and Ron had to light his wand. Advancing was very hard, through the snow and the cold wind, along the extremely slanting path they were following. Ron could barely feel his face due to the cold, but under his clothes, he was sweating._

_Finally, when he thought he could not make another step, Omega moved to the right, and Ron saw the entrance to a tiny cave. Quickly, he went in, and, exhausted, he dropped onto the floor, panting heavily._

"_W-where t-the hell a-a-are we going?" Ron asked, shivering. With a shaking hand, he pointed his wand to the floor and a sudden fire appeared. Then, he cast a Warming Charm upon himself._

"_The Cave of Old Magic," Omega answered. "An old place no one has been in for so many years."_

"_The Cave of Old Magic? And is it far from here?" asked Ron wearily._

"_It is. Now eat, Ronald, and sleep. The worst part of the Journey awaits you."_

"_I don't know how this can go worse," Ron complained, before lying down._

"_You have resisted so much. Half the people who tried this Journey abandoned upon seeing these mountains, Ronald."_

"_I don't blame them," muttered Ron before falling asleep, completely exhausted._

_It was barely day when they resumed their travel, and, if Ron had thought that it had been hard so far, it was nothing compared to what he had to endure the next days._

_The routine was no longer walking from dawn to dusk, but to walk until they found a new cave or refuge in which to rest. Sometimes, it implied walking until very late at night. The cold grew, the snow was deeper, and walking became more and more difficult. Ron had to Conjure gloves, and, even with them, he was always frozen. He had to use the wand to warm himself constantly and to be able to climb the mountain, because certain parts were unreachable by Muggle means. He had never felt so tired in his life._

_To make things harder, Omega had began to ask him questions about Hermione, forcing him to relive horrible moments and memories. He knew that his body and his mind were reaching their limits and that he had almost no strength to go on. But Omega was merciless. Again and again he exhorted Ron to continue, to crawl if he was too tired to walk, to use his magic, to keep going on, always on ..._

_When they had been in the mountains for several days — the exact number Ron didn't know, it seemed to him that they had been there forever, in a nightmarish succession of days and nights — a storm caught them on the unprotected and sloping side of a very high mountain. It was late at night, perhaps three or four in the morning, and they had still not found a cave. The cold was terrible, and Ron's Warming Charms were not enough. He was wet and frozen; his lips were purple and covered in frost. He was exhausted, and unable to feel his hands and feet. The snow began to fall with force, and the freezing wind made him fell on the snow, shaking. The light of the wand was now almost useless. He could not see anything further than two yards away from him._

"_Get up, Ronald!" Omega shouted, over the noise of the wind. He was still standing, the storm seemed not to affect him at all._

"_I c-can't," Ron whined, in a low voice. "I c-c-can't. P-please ..."_

"_You can!" Omega exhorted. "Come on, Ronald! Use your magic!"_

"_I c-c-can't f-feel m-my h-hands o-or my f-f-feet," Ron explained. "It's too much. Please, p-p-please, h-help me."_

"_Help you?" Omega said. "I cannot help you, Ronald. Nobody can. Go on!"_

"_I CAN'T" Ron yelled, with the little amount of energy he had left. "I c-can't move a-anymore."_

"_You can. Move!" Omega ordered._

"_P-please. I j-just w-want to rest. P-p-please ..."_

"_GET UP! COME ON! Move, or you will die!"_

"_T-then l-l-let me d-d-die," Ron said. "I c-cannot m-move. I cannot b-bear more s-suffering. T-this is t-too much."_

"_Die?" Omega asked. "Is that what you want, Ronald? To die? Here, in these mountains, alone? So far away from everything you know?"_

"_Yes, p-please ... I c-can't go on. I c-c-can't." He said, sobbing and sniffling._

"_You are pathetic," Omega sneered. "So this is it? After the journey you have endured, after a month, you are going to die, here, in these mountains? The world will go on, and you will not be on it. Is that what you want? Your family will go on with their lives, if they survive the war, and they will never know what happened to you. You will die here, in this night, alone and forgotten. Is that what you want?"_

_Ron sobs intensified, the tears freezing on his numb face._

"_I c-can't go on. I c-can't move. LET ME ALONE!" Ron yelled. "L-let me a-alone, please ..."_

"_Do you know what day is it, Ronald, in England?" Omega continued, relentless, unmerciful. "It is the thirty-first of July; Harry's birthday."_

_Ron sobbed harder, unable to say anything._

"_He is at Grimmauld Place, Ronald, with Hermione. And do you know what gift she gave him? Do you?"_

"_P-p-please, stop ..."_

"_Herself, Ronald," Omega said, getting near Ron and speaking slower. "She made love with him." Ron let out a yell of anguish. "Did she do it with you on your birthday? Did she?" he asked, his tone mean and hurtful._

"_P-p-please, p-please, s-stop. P-p-please, h-have mercy ... I — I don't d-d-deserve this, p-please ..."_

"_But it is true, Ronald. They are together, in his bed, after making love, whilst you are here, in the cold and in the snow, ready to die. Is that what you want? Will you let yourself die, whilst they are warm and together? Will you, or will you fight for yourself?"_

_Ron was shaking uncontrollably. Cold and tired as he was, he could not banish from his mind the images of Harry and Hermione, together, in his bed, naked, making love ..._

_He felt suddenly sick._

_Gathering his last ounces of strength, he let out a yell, a yell of pain, of anguish, of desperation, of rage. He clutched his wand tightly, forcing his numb hand to obey, and let his magic flow throughout him like never before. He felt something warm inside him, something that was, slowly, banishing the cold and the numbness from his body. The light in his wand got brighter and brighter, and also warmer. He rolled over on the snow, lying on his back, and yelled again, this time even harder, a cry full of pain, of despair, of heartache._

"_That is it, Ronald! That is it, boy!" Omega encouraged him. "Let it go! Your magic is the last thing you have. Use it! Let it take control of you! Feel it!"_

_And Ron did. He felt his sore, tired body get as warm as though he was under the summer's sun. And around him, he felt the snow melt, and then boil, and dense clouds of vapour began to rise around him, making him feel as if he was in a steamy bath instead on a frozen mountain in Nepal, thousands and thousands of feet above sea level._

_Pushing his power further, he got up. His body, now practically skin and bones after such a torturous journey, was light and easy to lift by magic. Hungry and tired and depressed, but feeling more magical than ever before, he followed Omega through the storm, his unleashed magic making now easy the difficult task of climbing the mountain._

_They reached a cave half an hour later, and, after placing some spells to warm it and to protect it from the storm, he dropped onto the ground, opened his rucksack and began to eat eagerly, despite the sick feeling he was still experiencing._

"_You have passed a turning point today, Ronald," Omega told him. "I am convinced that you will succeed. You have no idea of how extraordinary you are."_

_Ron didn't say anything. He was sitting there, eating, but his mind was far away, in London ..._

_With a great effort, he fought back his tears. He would not cry anymore. He would live. He would get the Source. And then he would go back._

_He would not let the world forget him._

* * *

><p>Heartbreaking, isn't it? And I suppose now you're wondering about Omega! Yes, the mysteries never end in this story!<p>

**The Long Journey, part 2 **will be posted next Monday. Happy weekend._  
><em>


	24. The Long Journey part 2

Here it is, the second part of Ron's journey. Now you know what is that storm he was thinking about in 'The Return'. Time to know how he got the Source!_**  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 22 (II)<strong>_

_**The Long Journey (part 2)**_

_The journey continued the same way for another two weeks. But Ron was now much more aware of his skills and his magic, and the travel wasn't as hard as it has been. He was, besides, much more determined, which helped a lot._

_One afternoon, in mid-August, Ron and Omega climbed an impressive mountain by a high and dangerous precipice. Once they had reached a relatively flat zone on the mountain's side, Ron wondered if any other human being would have put a foot there, because it seemed utterly inaccessible by Muggle means. Omega led the way towards the entrance of a tiny cave that Ron had not noticed until that moment, and told Ron to go into it. Ron did as told and they walked for at least a hundred yards until the cave opened to a big, dark chamber. It was empty._

"_We're spending the night here?" asked Ron, surprised. After all, there were still a few hours of daylight left._

"_We have reached out destination," Omega announced. "We are in the Cave of Old Magic."_

_Ron looked around him, disappointed. "_This?_" he asked. "Well, with that name, I expected something more ... interesting."_

"_We are in the entrance chamber," Omega explained. "The archway to the cave is there. You will have to move that rock with your wand."_

_Ron looked at the rock. It was considerably large and looked pretty heavy._

"_I don't know if I can move something so big."_

"_You can. Use your magic."_

_Ron pointed at the rock with his wand and muttered '_Wingardium Leviosa' _which immediately brought a memory of a heavy club falling on the head of a troll ..._

_The rock moved a bit, and Ron tried harder, until it finally floated over the ground and moved, revealing an archway behind it. Ron ended the charm and the rock fell to the ground. Together, he and Omega walked to the archway and crossed it._

"_Welcome to the Cave of Old Magic," muttered Omega._

_Ron opened his mouth in awe. The cave was enormous, bigger and higher than a Cathedral. Its ceiling seemed to be miles above them, and seemed to have several holes that let the outside light enter the cave. There was also a lake, well, it was more like a pond; but the most impressive thing was the huge, ancient-looking oak situated in the centre of the place._

_It was higher than any oak Ron had ever seen, and its branches seemed to cover a good portion of the place. Its trunk was incredibly thick, with a diameter of twelve yards at least._

"_What the hell —?" said Ron. "An oak inside a cave? And I didn't know there were oaks in the Tibet."_

"_There are not," Omega said. "But this is a very special tree, Ronald. In fact, you are contemplating the oldest and most magical tree in the world. It is thousands of years old." He paused for a moment, and then added, "It was in this place, and with that oak's wood, where the first magic wand was made."_

_Ron stared at Omega, almost unblinkingly. "I had never heard any of that," he admitted, surprised. "I had never heard of this place, either."_

"_No one alive knows about it," Omega explained. "Nobody has been here in a long, very long time. This name, 'Cave of Old Magic', is how I call it. Nobody named it, because only one wizard has been here before. You are the second person who puts a foot in it, Ronald."_

"_The one who succeeded in getting the Source was the first?" Ron asked._

"_That one," Omega confirmed._

"_And the others who tried?"_

"_Some of them, as I have told you, gave up. Others ... died."_

"_Died?"_

"_Why are you so surprised? You were ready to die, too, Ronald. The journey through the mountains is too tiring, too hard. But it is necessary. Not everyone was determined enough or was strong enough to go through it," he explained. "Now, forget about that. We are here at last. Here is where your training will be completed," continued Omega. "Here is where you will discover your Source, and where your suffering ends."_

"_I'm looking forward to it," muttered Ron, still taking in the cave._

"_Can you feel the magic of this place, Ronald?" Omega asked. "Can you feel the power emanating from the Oak, or the pure magic of the waters in the lake?"_

_Ron closed his eyes, and noticed that he _really_ could feel it. It was like a tingle in his skin, something vibrant in the air._

"_Yeah, I feel it," nodded Ron. "I can feel it everywhere. What is this place?"_

"_One of the most magical places in the world," Omega explained. "That is why we are here. This mountain, and those around it, is almost pure, almost untouched and unexplored. The Magic of the Nature is here very strong, very intense. I brought you here for those reasons, but also because, to reach it, it is necessary to endure a journey of self-sacrifice and purification. Now your mind and soul are naked, your magic is free, and your body is weak and worked out. You are ready to get your Source if you still want it."_

_The hole in his chest was still there, hurting, always hurting. The pain of Harry and Hermione's betrayal had not faded a bit, had not diminished, even after weeks without seeing them. He felt her absence — their absence — everywhere, in every part of his being. Omega was right, and he knew it: it would never stop. Never._

"_I want it more than ever," Ron declared._

"_And do you understand that, by getting it, you will lose your ability to feel love, to feel pity or sympathy, to have friends?"_

"_I do," said Ron with determination. "That's what I want the most. I don't want to suffer anymore. I don't want this hole in my chest, this void in my soul. Love is pain, and friendship ... means nothing now," he added sadly._

"_You must know that your soul will not suffer," added Omega. "Your soul will have the ability to love, as that love is what will feed the Source. But you will not be able to feel it anymore."_

"_I understand," Ron nodded, feeling more relaxed. He didn't want to mutilate his soul. He didn't want to become a creature like Voldemort._

"_Before we continue with the process, there is something I have to explain to you, something you must understand, because if you do not, you will not succeed."_

"_I'm listening."_

"_During the journey, you learnt how to release you magic, your raw magic, again. During your training at Hogwarts, you are taught how to control your magic, but, to get a Source, you must free that magic from its bindings. The Source works with raw, pure magic, Ronald, not with charms or spells triggered by incantations. The journey helped you to free your magic, to be more aware of it ... to connect it to your feelings._

"_As I have already told you, the Source needs something to feed it with the power to produce magic. In your case, it is your love. Losing it is part of the sacrifice you have to make. But the Source is powerful, Ronald, very powerful. To get it, you do not only need to sacrifice something, but to be willing to lose everything."_

"_What do you mean?" Ron asked, frowning._

"_You will have to pour all your magic. You will have to drain yourself. If you are determined enough, if your will is strong enough, your sacrifice will feed you with power, creating the Source," Omega explained. "However, if you are not determined enough, or if your will is not strong enough ... you will drain yourself, and you will lose your magic. For a wizard, that is something terrible, and as we are here, in these mountains, it means that, almost surely, you will die."_

"_And you tell me this now?" Ron asked, angry. "Why didn't you warn me before?"_

"_I am sure that you will succeed, Ronald," Omega said, dodging the question with ability. "Your magic is strong. You are powerful. You are determined. But to get something as powerful as the Source, you must be willing to lose everything. The question is: are you willing?"_

_Ron turned round and looked up, at the high ceiling of the cave, thinking ... Was he willing to risk everything? Was he ready to risk his own life if he could get that Source?_

_He closed his eyes, and remembered the night of the storm, that night when he had wished to die, when he had been willing to do _anything_ to stop the suffering, both the physical and the emotional ones ... What was the difference now? And then he thought about her mother crying over Bill, about her worried look every time she looked at the family clock, about Omega telling him George had been injured ..._

_He had no reason to want love anymore. Love was nothing but pain to him. But he had a good reason to want the Source, to want something that would help him to save his family, to stop that war._

_He faced Omega again. "I'm willing. I'll do it."_

_Omega smiled and nodded._

"_That is what I was expecting. Ronald, before you can get the Source, you need to be trained. It is not an easy training, but it is very important, because you will have one attempt to get the Source. If you fail, you will become powerless, and, without magic, you cannot leave these mountains, so you will die."_

"_I didn't expect it to be easy," Ron commented, resigned. "Nothing has been easy, hasn't it?"_

"_Magic can be used in some ways, Ronald, as you very well know, but, in its raw form, magic is simply an extraordinary energy source. And when freed, pure energy is, basically, heat. This means that you can transform your magic into heat, Ronald. Something you could have already guessed, because you warmed yourself with raw magic that night, a fortnight ago._

"_Usually, when released," Omega continued, "raw magic does not come as heat, because the subconscious part of the mind transforms it into what the wizard or witch needs at the moment. But in the previous weeks, you have learnt to release raw magic in almost its pure form. That is what you will have to do to get the Source, and that is why you need training. You have to learn how to release pure magic consciously."_

"_And how do I do that?" Ron asked, who hadn't really understood Omega's explanations about energy and heat. Probably Hermione would have understood everything and then she could —_

_He closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't want to think about Hermione._

"_You already know how to do it, Ronald. You have done it. Take your wand."_

_Ron did as told and awaited further instructions._

"_Get near the lake and put the wand and the hand holding it under the water."_

_Ron kneeled and put the hand under the water. He shivered. It was freezing._

"_Now close your eyes, and remember how you connected with your magic. Remember how it felt, remember how it ran through you body, and let it out through your wand."_

_Ron closed his eyes and concentrated, but nothing happened. He tried again, clutching his wand tighter, and the water around his hand got warmer, but he realised immediately that he had cast a Warming Charm non-verbally. And that was not what Omega wanted._

"_Think about Hermione and Harry, Ronald. Think about them, focus on you rage, on your despair, like you did that night, and then let it out through your wand. You know how, so do it."_

_Closing his eyes again, Ron complied with Omega's request. He thought about them, saw them, embracing in the hospital wing, that awful night, and then felt it, felt his blood boil in his veins and his body tingle with magic, and then he realised that Omega was right, he knew how to do it, and the wand began to glow, and, around his hand, the water got warmer and warmer. After a bit, steam began to rise from the lake, and then Omega spoke again._

"_Very well, but control it, Ronald. Be sure you are the one controlling how much power you are pouring into the water."_

_Ron nodded and continued letting the power flow through his wand. After a few minutes, however, he realised he was getting extremely tired. His eyelids were now very heavy, and he was staggering, almost unable to stand on his knees._

"_Stop," said Omega. "Stop now."_

_With difficulty, Ron stopped and took his hand out of the pleasantly warm water._

"_I'm tired."_

"_Of course you are," said Omega. "Releasing raw magic is draining. You must rest to regain your energy. Why do you not take a bath? It will relax you."_

_That was an idea, Ron thought. He hadn't had a bath since he had left Hogwarts, a month and a half ago. Slowly, because he was very tired, he took his clothes off. He looked down at his shaking body, and grimaced upon seeing how much weight he had lost. Every bone of his body was now perfectly visible under his skin._

_He got into the water and sighed with pleasure. The water was absolutely delicious, and it felt incredibly good. He leant against the border of the lake, closed his eyes and sighed, letting himself go until he fell asleep._

_He woke up about half an hour later, feeling almost extenuated, but, at the same time, relaxed. The water was almost freezing again, and he felt his body shiver._

"_Get out," Omega told him._

"'_M too tired," he moaned, still sleepy despite the coldness of the water._

"_You have to get out, or you will get frozen there. You need to eat and rest."_

_With a great effort, Ron crawled out of the water, panting heavily and almost frozen. Without thinking, he stretched his arm and dragged his clothes towards him with his wand. He put them on very slowly. His entire body was shaking._

"_You will have to sleep, as much as you can," Omega told Ron as he began to eat eagerly. "Tomorrow you will have to do the same, and you need your rest."_

_Ron didn't say anything. He finished eating and then fell asleep instantly._

_During the next days, Ron continued his training, using raw magic to heat the lake. It was an extremely draining exercise, and doing it every day was terrible. Omega made Ron think about Harry and Hermione to help him release his power and to help him 'understand how to interconnect his powers and his feelings'._

_Those activities left Ron so tired that, after them, he could only eat, and then go to sleep, what he would usually do for thirteen or fourteen hours._

_The sessions were physically and mentally extenuating. After them Ron could only light a fire, eat and put the blanket around himself. He no longer Vanished it, because, after the exercises, using magic was very tiring._

_Each day Ron was more tired than the previous, so, on the fourth night they stayed in the cave, Omega told Ron to put a few leafs of the ancient oak in a cauldron filled with water from the lake and to let it boil. Then he told him to drink it._

"_Are you mad?" Ron asked him. "This is not tea."_

"_That tree is _magical_, Ronald. And that lake too. Drink it; it will help your magic."_

_Ron took a mug and, with a disbelieving look, filled it with the steamy water from the cauldron. After letting it cool for a bit, he took a sip and grimaced. He had been right, it tasted horribly. However, he drank it all, and, surprisingly, he realised that he felt slightly better, less tired and more ... magical. There was no other word to describe it._

"_I told you so," Omega said._

_From then on, Ron made the strange infusion every night, drinking it just before going to sleep. He usually was quiet, and Omega didn't try to make him talk, either._

_However, on the tenth night in the cave, after having almost made the entire lake boil, Omega addressed him while he was drinking the infusion, with the blanket wrapped around him._

"_You are ready."_

_Ron, who was staring off into space, turned his head to look at him. "You think?"_

"_I am sure. What you did today was extraordinary. If you are still willing to do it, you can do it tomorrow."_

_Ron turned his head again, looking away from him. "Good, 'cause I'm bloody tired of this."_

_Ron fell silent, but Omega didn't say anything, so he began to speak again. He didn't know why, because he didn't consider Omega a friend. But, after almost two months of loneliness, he needed to talk._

"_It's been almost two months since the last time I saw her," he said, almost whispering. "One would think that, after this time, I would feel better. But I don't, I try to ignore it, but it's there, all the time, the void she left, the void they left inside me ... I hate her — or want to, at least — but I miss her, too. I don't want this; I don't want to feel like this. I never ... I never thought one could feel this way, so ... empty."_

"_Not everyone can," Omega said. "Very few people have experienced a love like yours, Ronald. Very few people indeed. But it will stop," Omega assured. "Once you get the Source, it will stop."_

"_If I succeed," Ron replied, without thinking._

"_You will," Omega assured. "You are determined. You told yourself you would not let the world forget you, did you not?"_

"_Yeah, I did. But —" Ron stopped mid-sentence and looked at Omega, a suspicious look on his face. "How do you know that?" he asked._

"_What are you referring to?"_

"_Don't play with me. You know _very well_ what I'm talking about. I_ thought_ I wouldn't let the world forget me, but I didn't say it out loud. So how do you know it?"_

_Omega looked at him for a while before answering. "Knowing things is what I do, Ronald." Ron wanted to ask him more questions, but Omega spoke before he could open his mouth, "Drink that and sleep. You will need your rest. Tomorrow will be a hard day."_

_Ron weighed whether to continue the talk or not, but finally, sighing, he decided to follow Omega's advice and go to sleep._

_When he woke up and checked his watch, he noticed that he had been sleeping for fifteen hours, and he was very hungry. Sitting up, he looked around and spotted Omega, staring at him from near the oak._

"_Eat something," he told him._

_Ron opened his rucksack and looked inside. "We're running out of food," he commented. "I have enough for ten days or so."_

"_It's more than enough," Omega said. "Eat as much as you want. You will need your strength."_

_Ron didn't need this particular advice, because he was famished. He began to eat and realised, suddenly, that, for the first time in his life, he wasn't nervous at the prospect of doing something so big._

'Well, there's nothing to lose, isn't there?'_ he thought. _'So there's no reason to be nervous ...'

"_I'm ready," said Ron once he had finished eating._

"_Prepare the infusion of oak leaves, then," ordered Omega._

"_Now?" said Ron, surprised. "I usually drink it afterwards."_

"_Not today," Omega said. "You will need as much magic as you can get."_

_Ron stood up, took some leaves from the oak tree and began to heat the water with them inside._

"_Ronald, do you remember the consequences of what you are going to do?" asked Omega."_

"_I do," answered Ron._

"_Do you accept that, if you get the Source, you will not experience love, of friendship, ever again?"_

"_I am."_

"_Do you know that, whilst trying to get it, you could drain yourself and lose your magic?"_

"_I do."_

"_Then, relax and breathe in the vapours of the infusion," Omega indicated, pointing to the steaming cauldron._

_Ron took a deep breath and then frowned, moving his head backwards. The vapour was really hot and he felt his nostrils burn. He rubbed his nose and moved again forwards, breathing more slowly this time. After a few breaths he noticed he felt slightly better, like more aware of his magic._

_Omega let him breathe the vapours for a few minutes, and then ordered him to drink a mug of the infusion. Ron obeyed without a word._

"_Perfect. Now stand up and take you wand." Ron did it. "You know what to do, Ronald: pour your magic through it, let it flow around you, fill this cave. And this time do not hold back, let the flow control you and not the other way around."_

_Ron closed his eyes and followed Omega's instructions. Soon, he felt his magic pouring out, draining him of his power. And, as Omega had told him, he didn't try to control the flow, but let it grow, and get out of control. He felt his own wand tremble, and felt like something was sucking the magic out of him. It was a horrible sensation, and, as the power kept flowing off him, it got worse._

"_Now think about her, Ronald. Think about how much you love her, about that hole in your chest, about that void in your soul," Omega whispered in a soft, calming voice. "Think about how much you want to fill that hole, about how much you want that feeling to go away."_

_And Ron thought about her, about her wild hair and her pretty face; he thought about her beautiful brown eyes and her sweet smile ... He thought about how his need of that things, his need of her, hurt; about how her absence and her betrayal was creating that hole, and about how much he wanted to fill it ..._

_He felt his body tingle and tremble, and the sensation of draining intensified. He felt his knees go weak. The entire cave was glowing with the intense light coming off his wand. The air around him was getting hotter, but his body was getting colder. He was already tired and he knew that, if he kept doing that, he would soon drop onto the floor and pass out._

"_Keep going, Ronald," Omega said. "Let it out. Let it fill your void. Think about her and turn that feeling into magic. And then fill your hole with it. Order your magic to heal you, boy!"_

"_I ... don't know ... how," Ron muttered. He felt in a sort of trance. His power was now totally out of control, taking more and more from him. He realised, with a surge of panic, that he could not stop it even if he wanted. His wand seemed to be glued to his hand, sucking his magic, and he could do nothing to prevent it._

"_Use your love to get more magic, Ronald, or you will be drained completely and both your power and you will be ruined!"_

_Ron tried to follow his instructions, and, remembering everything he had learnt the last days, he used his rage, his desire to get rid of that love, of that _pain_, to take control, to feed him with more power, more magic ..._

_His legs gave up and he crumpled onto the floor, still pouring pure magic through his wand. But then, he felt another surge of power that made him arch his back in a spasm of pain. He screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling as though his entire being was being sucked off his body._

"_Think of her, Ronald! Think of what you want! Use your will, command your magic! Order it to heal you, to take your love and extract power from it!"_

_Ron closed his eyes, and saw Hermione again, smiling at him that night, when she had said goodnight to him after Slughorn's Chrismas Party. But soon that image was replaced by the memory of Hermione and Harry kissing in that deserted corridor. He felt a surge of anger, of despair, and his power intensified, making his body spasm again._

"_Go away," he muttered, moaning, a few tears running down his face. "Go away, I don't want you ... I don't want this feeling ... I want it to stop ..."_

_The image of Hermione and Harry kissing changed, and Ron saw them in his imagination, rolling over a bed in Grimmauld Place, naked, laughing, kissing ... _Moaning_ ..._

"_STOP!" he yelled. "I ORDER YOU TO STOP! I WANT YOU TO DISAPPEAR! I DON'T — I DON'T WANT TO FEEL THIS WAY ANYMORE!"_

_A new surge of pain made him yell at the top of his lungs, and, almost at the same time, a new, incredible surge of power coursed throughout him, numbing his body. And gradually, he stopped seeing, hearing and feeling, as if he was detached from his body, and then, lost in himself, noticed _it_._

_The hole was no longer there, and the images of Hermione and Harry in his mind had vanished. The flowing of magic seemed to be diminishing, too._

_He let out a last scream he could not hear, and finally passed out._

_o o o_

"_Welcome back," Ron heard Omega say, as he opened his eyes and sat up. He blinked rapidly a few times, a bit confused, and looked at his guide._

"_What's happened?" he asked, looking around him._

"_You passed out," Omega said, and then smiled. "But you have succeeded, Ronald. You have got it."_

_Ron looked at himself, and noticed that he had, inexplicably, recovered some of his lost weight. And then felt _it_ inside him — the power, the incredible power running throughout his body. He stared at his hands, feeling them tingle with magic. Then he stared at the oak, and saw something he had never seen before: it was gleaming with magic. He could actually see it around the entire cave._

"_How is that I've gained some weight?" he asked._

"_Your Source is healing you," Omega explained. "The process has not finished yet, though."_

"_How long have I been unconscious?"_

"_Well, it is the first of October," Omega answered._

"_What?" Ron asked, gobsmacked. "I've been unconscious for five weeks?"_

"_The process almost drained you," Omega said. "Getting a Source is an extremely tiring and hard process. Your magic has to recover, and your body too. How do you feel?"_

"_Incredible," Ron answered. He walked towards the lake and observed his reflection. He noticed that his hair was a bit longer and its colour was darker than before. Kneeling, he watched his face. The colour of his eyes was now a darker blue, and the bags under them had vanished. "I feel calmer and in control. I feel powerful. I feel like never before," he added, getting to his feet again and facing Omega._

"_I have to tell you something," Omega said. "About how things are going in Great Britain."_

_Ron stared at him, waiting for the news. But he noticed there was something funny there ... He did not feel anxious or worried, as though he didn't care about what happened to those he knew. He was just ... curious. And yet, he desired to protect them. That had been one of the main thoughts in his mind during the journey, and it had lingered. He had done this, in part, to protect them, to save them. And though he no longer cared about them, he wanted to make sure they were safe. It was an odd feeling._

"_Voldemort took over the Ministry on the first of August," Omega told him. "Your family is safe, but bad things are happening. Terrible things."_

"_And what about Harry and Hermione?"_

_Omega stared at him carefully. "How do you feel about them, Ronald?"_

_Ron thought about Hermione, seeing her in his mind, her curly hair, her brown eyes, her pretty face, her soft lips, her sharp intelligence, her strong determination ... and he didn't feel anything. He remembered the kiss between her and Harry and it meant nothing to him now. The hole in his chest was no longer there. Hermione and Harry didn't mean anything to him anymore._

"_I don't care about them; I don't need them. But they're important. How are them?"_

"_You tell me" Omega said. "You know them. Find them."_

_And Ron did. Suddenly, he knew how, as if the answer has suddenly bubbled from the bottom of his mind. He began thinking about them, he searched for their magic ..._

_And a few seconds later, he knew: they were on the run and alone, but safe. Lord Voldemort had not captured them yet._

_Something strange ran through his body. There was something in the name of Lord Voldemort. Ron said the name inwards again and felt the same thing. And again, understanding came to him, and the explanation was there, as if Magic itself was telling him what he needed to know._

"_A Taboo ..." he muttered. "There's a Taboo Jinx on Lord Voldemort's name."_

"_There is," affirmed Omega._

"_I _can feel _it. It's ... amazing."_

"_That's just the beginning," Omega said. "You will be able to do even greater things."_

"_They do not know about it," Omega said. "And, at any moment, they will say it out loud and they will be captured."_

_He thought about the consequences, about them being captured, tortured, killed ... He didn't felt anything. He didn't care. And yet, they were human. They had done good things ..._

"_But they must not die," Ron stated. "They're important. I have to do something."_

"_You cannot go there," Omega warned him. "The process is not completed yet. You must rest. But you are right, they are important, Ronald. They are very important. They must not die."_

_Ron thought about it for a moment, and then raised his right hand. And, as though his magic knew exactly what to do, a bluish ball of light appeared on it._

"_This will find them," Ron said. "And will tell them about the Taboo." Closing his eyes, he thought about the message to convey, and then moved his hand. The bluish ball soared across the air and vanished._

_But then, Ron felt suddenly tired and sleepy, as though he had wiped himself out completely, and dropped onto the floor._

"_Your magic is still weak," Omega explained. "You have used too much energy. Sleep, Ronald. Let the Source do its job."_

_And Ron, unable to keep his eyes open, closed them and fainted again._

_o o o_

_He woke up suddenly and, quickly, he sat up, without a trace of sleep. He felt good. No, he felt incredible, better than ever. He felt strong and full of power and energy. He stood up with a hop and looked around him. Omega was nowhere to be seen._

_Ron lowered his gaze to look at his body. With surprise, he found out that not only he had recovered his lost weight, but that now he was broader and more muscled. He felt stronger than ever._

_His clothes, however, were old and torn due to the long and hard travel. He thought that he needed new ones, and, suddenly, he was dressed in black trousers, a black, fitting jumper and black leather boots. He hadn't been a fan of black clothes before, but he thought that they suited him perfectly now. He didn't feel cheerful. He felt in control, calm, serious and confident, ready to face anything._

_He spotted his rucksack, where the rest of his food was, but he noticed that he wasn't hungry at all. And something inside him (the _Source_) told him that now he wouldn't need food anymore._

"_Welcome back, Ronald," said a voice behind him. Turning around, he saw Omega. "Are you feeling all right?"_

"_I'm perfectly fine," he answered. "Better than ever."_

"_Good," Omega said._

"_How much time did I sleep?"_

"_It's the twentieth of December."_

_Ron opened his eyes widely. "I've been unconscious for more than two months!"_

"_You have," Omega nodded. "But it is normal, Ronald. Your magic needs to heal itself and you. But soon you will be at the top of your power."_

_Ron stared at Omega for a few moments, and then narrowed his eyes. "What are you?"_

"_What do you mean?" Omega asked._

"_I can see and feel the magic of this place. But I cannot see anything in you," Ron explained. "It is as if you weren't here at all. What are you?"_

"_I have told you I am —"_

"_A guide, yeah," Ron interrupted him. "But that's not all and you know it. You're keeping secrets, Omega."_

"_I am," he admitted. "You know I cannot lie. But that is not important to you. You have your Source. Soon, you will be able to go back to Britain if you want, and put things right there."_

_Ron kept staring at Omega, trying, unsuccessfully, to understand the mystery about him._

"_Forget about that," Omega advised him. "I am not going to tell you anything more, and you cannot discover my secrets, no matter how powerful you are."_

_Knowing that he was right, Ron dropped the subject and looked again around the place. Then, he took his wand and caressed it softly, understanding at once how it worked, how it channelled magic and how it served him._

"_I'll need a better wand," he commented._

"_What for?" Omega asked. But Ron didn't know if he was asking out of curiosity or because he simply wanted to talk. "You are powerful enough."_

"_I am, but I want a better wand. I know how to make it. I understand how they work. I'm going to make the most powerful wand that ever existed, and everything I need it's here," he added, looking at the ancient oak._

"_I suggest you to wait," Omega told him. "Although you feel powerful, your Source is not completely formed yet. You must relax and get accustomed to your new powers and knowledge."_

"_I know," Ron said._

"_But you do not need a new wand, Ronald," Omega insisted._

"_Why do you care?" Ron asked, frowning. "Didn't you say you didn't want me to waste my potential? Well, I am going to maximise it."_

_Omega didn't answer._

_And so, Ron spent the next days sitting in the cave, meditating, taking in his new powers and knowledge. Each day he felt his power grow and his magic become more intense, and he knew that nothing could beat him, that he was capable of almost anything with magic._

_On New Year's Eve he went out of the cave for the first time in four months. It was winter now, and it was snowing intensely, but he didn't mind. He stood on the verge of the precipice he had had to climb with so much difficulty. Thinking about it was like remembering another person's life. Now, the snow and the cold were harmless to him. The power of the Source inside him kept him warm and protected. Now he felt like at home in the storm, in the snow, because it had been in one where his new life had begun._

_He stood there for hours, silently watching the enormous, snow-covered mountains of the Tibet, until Omega's voice drew his attention back to the entrance of the cave._

"_Your transformation is almost complete," Omega told him seriously. "In a few days, you will be ready."_

"_I know."_

"_There is nothing else for me to do here," he announced. "So this is goodbye."_

"_You're leaving?" Ron asked, frowning._

"_I am," Omega nodded. "I did what I had to."_

"_You're not going to tell me why you helped me to get the Source, aren't you?" Ron asked. "And don't give me that shit that you did it because you just wanted to help me."_

_Omega simply looked at him._

"_You are right. I am not going to tell you anything more. But I told you I wanted to help you, and that is true, Ronald. I cannot lie."_

"_I don't know what to say," Ron muttered. He didn't feel like saying 'thank you'._

"_You do not have to say anything. Good luck, Ronald." And, without another word, he vanished._

_Ron stared for a moment at the point where Omega had been, frowning._

_Now that he had a source of knowledge, now that he could know anything, he didn't like mysteries or strange things that he could not explain. It was an odd thing in him and much more typical of Hermione._

_Hermione ..._

_Again, there was no feeling, just some curiosity about her, her intelligence, skills and power. She didn't seem so extraordinary now, either. He was now much more powerful and knew much more things about magic than what she could learn in a lifetime._

_Shaking his head, he walked back slowly to the cave, where he sat under the oak. He started to plan his movements, how he was going to bring Voldemort down. Thinking was now much easier. His mind, free of the burden of feelings, was clear as water. He had always been a master at chess, and so, while he waited for the Source to be completed, he began to play inside his mind the match that would lead to Voldemort's downfall and the end of the war._

_o o o_

_With a loud 'CRACK!' the rock split in two before him. He pointed his wand at it, and the slit widened, allowing him to move further. The light in the tip of the wand brightened and he saw a silvery gleam a few yards ahead of him. There it was, the seam of silver he was looking for. He had made his way through the earth and the rock until this place deep inside the mountain. He needed some quantity of the most pure and magical silver he could find, and it was here._

_He pointed the wand at the seam, and a small piece of metal rose up in the air and flew towards Ron, who took it and guarded it in his pocket. He Disapparated and, an instant later, he was back in the cave beside his rucksack. He put the silver next to the unicorn hair he had got the day before, and moved towards the oak. He studied it carefully and, after a bit, took a branch from it._

_He went back to where his rucksack lay on the floor and sit down. He pointed at the branch with his wand, and, with a flash of bright light, some of the wood vanished, leaving a perfect cylindrical wan. It was straight, long (about fifteen inches) and smooth._

_With a flick of his old wand, the new one split open into two identical half-cylinders. A second flick made appear a narrow groove in each piece of wood. Next, he took two hairs of his head and joined them magically to make a longer one. Then, he twisted the hair with the unicorn one until they were totally entwined, and put the result in one of the grooves._

_He stretched his left arm and put it above the half-cylinder with the hairs, and, with a tap of his wand, a deep cut appeared on his wrist, and some drops of blood began to spill, falling onto the hairs. Ron moved his wrist along them, coating the hairs with his blood._

"_That's it," he muttered. "A hair of a unicorn, a hair from the most powerful wizard ever, mixed with his — _my _— blood; wrapped in wood of the most magical tree in the world and covered in strings of silver. This wand will be more powerful than any other ever fashioned ... and will only do my bidding."_

_He made another flick with his wand, and the two halves of the cylinder resealed themselves perfectly. Another wave turned the surface of the wood to black, and then made the silver form three slim, long strings and put them over the new wand, connecting the hilt and the tip._

_It was done._

_Slowly, with a great sense of anticipation building inside him, he took the wand by the hilt and lifted it._

_Instantly, he felt an incredibly powerful surge of energy run through his entire body. The wand began to glow, now recognising his maker and true master, and what burst from its tip was not the usual red sparks, but a powerful stream of golden flames._

_Ron closed his eyes, trying to get accustomed to the sensation. He had never felt so immensely powerful in his entire life._

_The wand kept glowing, a little flame blazing on its tip. Ron smiled, amazed at how well it worked. Now he was ready to explore the deepest realms of magic. There was so much knowledge inside him, things he wanted to test, experiments he wanted to do ... Everything was there, all he needed to know, as though Magic itself were speaking to him._

_And soon, in a few days, he would be ready to go back._

_Nothing in the world could stop him now._

* * *

><p>If you thought you were going to find out who or what Omega is, sorry!<p>

Next chapter, this Wednesday. Time to see Hermione's reaction to this._  
><em>


	25. The Last Day

_Another long chapter! It seems that, when I reached this point in the story, I lost the ability not to write everything that crossed my mind. Well, I suppose you won't mind._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 23<strong>_

**The Last Day**

The darkness around her dissolved, and the room took shape again. Hermione blinked several times very quickly, and noticed that her cheeks and the front of her robes were soaked with tears. She wanted to say something, but the lump that had formed in her throat was terribly painful, and the simple act of swallowing was pure torture.

She looked at Ron, and saw that he was watching her with the slightest trace of curiosity etched on his face.

"I — I —" Hermione stuttered, sobbing and unable to speak, still trying to assimilate what she had seen, the terrible journey Ron had endured, the horrible sufferings he had had to stand ...

Guilt was consuming her. Knowing that he was there, almost dying, in the middle of a storm, lost in a far mountain, while she was in bed with Harry was almost unbearable. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. She was disgusted with herself. The idea made her suddenly sick, and she barely had time to move to the side of the bed before starting to throw up on the floor. But the nausea was still there, and after a few moments, she threw up again, though there was nothing left in her stomach. For a minute she remained there, still, her head almost hanging, her hair falling around her sweaty face, her entire body trembling with silent sobs.

She wished she were dead.

"I told you this was not a good idea," Ron commented. "But, well, now you know the whole truth."

"I — I'm s-sorry, R-Ron, so, s-so s-s-sorry!" she managed to say. "Oh, God!"

A few moments later, she moved, and lied on her right side, facing Ron, who shrugged. "I'm fine now," he said. He looked at the vomit on the floor emotionlessly, and with a gesture of his hand, it vanished.

"You endured that, you _did_ that because of _me_!" she yelled, shaking. "Everything's my fault."

"No one forced me to do anything, Hermione. It wasn't just for you and Harry. I wanted to protect my family, too. And I could get the power to do it by getting rid of something I didn't want anymore," Ron said.

"It is my fault," Hermione insisted, and Ron didn't bother to argue with her. Hermione curled on the bed and kept sobbing for a while. Once she had calmed down a bit, she looked again at him, her face soaked and her eyes blotchy and puffy. "We — we would never have forgotten you, Ron. We l-loved you. I loved you the way you were. _I love you the way you were_."

Ron didn't say anything.

"I feel that hole, too. I feel it right now. It hurts even more than yesterday. It hurts too much."

"I know it hurts."

"Does that mean that you — that you're the love of my life, then?"

"How can I be the love of your life?" Ron asked. "You fell in love with Harry."

Hermione did not have an answer to that. "I didn't choose it," she said. "I _didn't want_ it. I tried to fight it, Ron. I really tried."

"I know that, Hermione. But the truth is that you did it, you felt in love with him. I know you didn't choose it, I know you fought it ... But it doesn't matter. You kissed him." Ron got up and, facing away from her, looked out of the window. "You slept with him," he added.

Hermione felt sick again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for that Ron. I hate it happened. I wish it had never happened."

Ron didn't move.

"Then I would be dead."

"What?" she asked, shocked.

"You saw it. I was extenuated, Hermione. In the middle of a storm, frozen and hungry. Death seemed like bliss. When Omega told me, it hurt me even more, but it also gave me strength, and rage, and the desire to prove to me, and to everyone, that I could do anything."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Ron. We — I didn't do it to save you," she said, and looked down, more ashamed of herself than she had been in her entire life. "Why, Ron?" she asked, in a low and high-pitched voice. "Why did this happen to us? Why do we have to suffer like this? Why? We were happy together."

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps it is fate. Perhaps there is no reason."

She didn't say anything for a few minutes, and then spoke again, a bit calmer.

"It was you. It was you who sent us that message, that bluish ball that warned us about the Taboo Jinx."

"Yeah, it was me. You needed to know."

"Thanks," she said. "If you hadn't done it, I'm sure we would have been captured."

"I know, and I didn't want that."

Silence fell again over the room. The images of everything she had seen kept replaying in her mind. Ron seeing her kissing Harry; Ron broken and depressed; Ron travelling, tired and hungry; Ron lying on the snow, frozen and lost, wishing to die ... hearing about her and Harry ...

"That man, Omega ... Do you know who or _what_ is he?" Hermione asked, after a while.

"No, I don't. I just know what he told me. The only thing that is clear to me is that he is not human."

"How did he know all those things?"

Ron shook his head. "I've got no idea."

Hermione moved and sat against the headboard once more. She embraced her thighs, putting her arms under them and pulling them against her chest. Then she rested her chin on her knees.

"You sacrificed your love," she stated, staring off into space.

"I did."

"You can't feel it. You won't feel it again," she continued, and looked at him again.

"That's true."

"If I died, you wouldn't cry, you wouldn't _care_."

"No, I wouldn't. I'd be sorry, yes, but it wouldn't really matter to me."

Hermione didn't cry. There were no more tears. Everything was said. Everything was clear. This was the end. She had done this, she had caused this, and now she had to suffer the consequences.

"I'll always love you, Ron," she said. "I'm sure of it. And I'll suffer your absence, that void in my soul, for the rest of my life. I suppose it is the punishment for my weakness, for what I did to you."

"You're strong, and brilliant. I really wish you a happy life, Hermione," he said, and stood up. "Now rest. And if you want an advice ... try to forget what you have seen. Don't think about it. I'll see you in the morning," he told her, and without another word, he Disapparated.

Hermione got in the bed and put the covers over her. How could she forget what she had seen? She was sure that Ron's pleas, Ron's sufferings, would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She closed her eyes and let one last tear run down her cheek, trying not to think that, soon, Ron Weasley would leave her, perhaps, forever.

That hole in her chest, that void in her soul, was devouring her. Now she understood why Ron had done what he had done. And if it was almost unbearable to her, how intense would it have been for him, after being betrayed not only by her, but by Harry as well?

Ron didn't deserve that pain. But she did. She did deserve it, and would suffer it forever, even if it was useless.

"I love you, Ron," she whispered into the darkness. "And I'm sorry. I'll not live time enough to say how sorry I am."

o o o

She woke up, feeling still weary, as if she hadn't slept at all. Yawning, she looked at the window and noticed that the light was still dim outside. Glancing at her clock, she saw it was half past seven in the morning.

"The first day, in one sense, and the last, in another," she muttered to herself. She had dreamt about Ron the whole night, and knew she wouldn't fall asleep again. She felt a new desire to cry, but fought it. She was not going to cry anymore. There was no point in it. She had cried enough. Now she had to accept that she had her entire life ahead of her, and she would have to live it, even though Ron wasn't in it. If she could not help Ron, she at least would do some good in the world. It was the only thing she could do now.

She stayed in bed for a long time, not wishing at all to get up. She had to decide what to do with her life from now on. First of all, she would have to bring back her parents from Australia and restore their memories, and after that ... spend time with them, before returning to Hogwarts next year. She thought about that. Would Harry want to come back? And if he didn't, would she be able to stand a year at the school without Ron and Harry by her side? She thought of all the times when she had not had them both with her, before being friends and during their fights in third year ... the thing she remembered more clearly about those periods of time was being unhappy and sad. Would she feel happiness once more? Probably not.

_You had it. And you threw it away_.

Sighing, she looked at the window again. Thick snowflakes were slowly falling outside, and she couldn't help seeing Ron again, in that mountain, in the darkness, frozen and tired and broken down ...

It didn't matter that she had told herself she would not cry anymore, thick tears were already spilling from her eyes, and she realised she could never think about Ron in that moment without crying.

Her mind began to wander, thinking about older, happier memories of Ron: their New Year's kiss at the Burrow last year; their first 'nerves-soothing snog' just before the match against Hufflepuff; the 'date' they had had after their Apparition exam in Hogsmeade and the way Ron had thanked her for her help; the time they had spent together that same day, while Harry retrieved Slughorn's memory ...

"It's in the past," she muttered, wiping her tears away. "There's no point in thinking about it."

A soft knock on the door drew her attention. Brushing her face with her sheet, she said, "Come in."

The door opened and Harry stepped into the room. He seemed a bit reluctant, and looked as if he had not slept at all.

"Good morning, Hermione," moving and sitting on the chair.

"Morning, Harry," she replied. "You look really awful."

"Well, this is isn't your best day either. You look pale and sick," he snapped. But after a second, his expression softened and muttered. "Sorry. I — I didn't sleep well."

"Join the club," she replied.

"The guilt is killing me, Hermione. The guilt is killing me and the worst part is that I deserve every ounce of it," he confessed. He looked at her. "What's your excuse?"

"He showed me, Harry," Hermione explained. "Ron showed me what he did, where he went, after leaving Hogwarts last year. He showed me how he became what he is now."

"He did?" said Harry, astounded. "But why? Every time anyone asked him, he —"

"I asked him to," said Hermione. "For old times' sake. And he complied."

"Is it — bad?" Harry asked, afraid of the answer. Hermione nodded.

"Terrible," Hermione answered. "Terrible, Harry. What he endured ... It was dreadful."

"Tell me, Hermione," Harry asked eagerly. "Tell me. What did he do? How can we help him to go back, to be _him_ again?"

"There's no way," Hermione said, looking down and shaking her head. "There's no way ..."

And she told Harry about Omega, about the terrible journey and, crying, about the awful night on Harry's birthday.

"It was horrible!" Hermione yelled. "We were — we were —" she couldn't even say it, "we were _there_ warm and safe, and m-meanwhile he was — he was ... wishing t-to d-die!"

Harry was pale as a ghost now, and seemed to be about to throw up.

"Oh, Merlin ..." Harry muttered, covering his head with his hands, his eyes also wet.

"And he sacrificed h-his love to get t-that S-Source," Hermione continued, sobbing. "And now he can't feel l-love, he c-can't care."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I should have left," he whispered, and Hermione looked directly at his eyes. "I should have left before our kiss. I should — I should —"

"It was not only your fault!"

"But if I had left, perhaps you'd still be together, and happy."

"IT WAS ME!" Hermione bellowed, and Harry looked away, as if he couldn't bear the words. "I did wrong, everything the wrong way! I hid what I was feeling. And now I'm paying the consequences. I destroyed him. I deserve to be alone forever. I deserve this pain."

"You are not the only one," Harry said. "I — I think I can't be with Ginny Hermione, even if she wanted me. I can't. She deserves better."

"But you were willing to fight for a future, Harry."

Harry shook her head.

"But now I can't. I can't. Yesterday, when the Cheering Charm vanished, I —" he shook his head again. "Thank Merlin I was in my room. I couldn't stand it, Hermione. I can barely look at you after what I did!"

"Ron said that it would get better. That you had a lot of regret bottled up."

Harry did not say anything, and Hermione let out a new sob and get out of the bed.

"I — I want to have a shower. Do you mind waiting for me to go to the Great Hall?"

"Not at all. I'll — I'll be in my room, okay?"

She nodded and Harry left the room.

Slowly, Hermione took off her nightclothes and went into the shower. She let the hot water cascade over her for ten minutes before stepping out and drying herself with her wand. She dressed and got out of the room.

The corridor was deserted. She walked to Harry's room and knocked on the door.

A moment later, Harry opened it and came out. "Let's go, then?" he asked.

She nodded and the two began to walk towards the Great Hall. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Hermione asked, "Did something interesting happen last night?"

"Well, some reporters wanted to enter the castle to interview you, Ron and me ... especially Ron," Harry told her. "Professor McGonagall was not very keen on it, but Kingsley said it was better if he gave them a brief explanation. I went with him."

"You did?" Hermione asked, surprised. "You hate that sort of publicity."

"I do, but I thought it was best to talk to them then so they'd leave us alone. Kingsley spoke first and explained that Voldemort was finished and that the war had ended. The reporters wanted to know more, but Kingsley refused to give further explanations. Then they asked me about our whereabouts, so I gave them a little account of our story, without mentioning the horcruxes. Of course, they demanded more information, and, above all, they wished to speak to Ron."

"And they didn't question you about your scar?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Nah, I put my fringe over the place it was, so they could not see that it's gone."

"And that was all?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Kingsley told them that he would attend a press conference today, at the Ministry, and advised them to go and celebrate the end of the war. Ron was not there, so they didn't have anything to do and finally left."

"It is hard to believe that all is over, at last."

"Yeah, it is."

"The — the Weasleys are still here?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. They'll return to the Burrow today. They —" Harry hesitated, and Hermione looked at him. He was shaking again. "Well, they saw us yesterday, when we went with Ron despite everything, and they — they told me I could visit, have meals with them and all that."

"They did?" Hermione asked.

Harry seemed about to break down again. "They — they seem to have forgiven us, Hermione! And they shouldn't. We — we don't deserve that."

"No, we don't," agreed Hermione, and added, "Has — has Ginny spoken to you?"

"Ginny hasn't said anything," he muttered. "I didn't really expect her to, anyway. I prefer it that way. I've told you, Hermione, I — I can't be with her. I can't."

"But she likes you. I daresay she _loves_ you."

"I don't deserve her. I don't deserve them," he insisted, and sighed, defeated. "But even so, I don't know what to do. I mean, if living alone forever, if suffering this way, I could bring the old Ron back, then I'd do it without hesitation. But it won't, so I don't know." He sighed again. "I won't take any decision yet," he declared, and looked at her. "They want you to drop by from time to time, too."

Hermione lowered her eyes. "Going to The Burrow, without Ron? No, Harry. I just — can't."

"I know what you mean."

"What are you going to after — after all this?"

"I had thought about going back to Grimmauld Place until I'd got my own place, but now ... I can't. I can't set foot in that house ever again. After what happened there ... No, I can't go there. I suppose I'll rent a room, or something like that, before getting a house, or flat, or something like that." He looked at her. "And you?"

"I'm going to Australia as soon as I can," Hermione told him. "I want to bring back my parents. I owe them an explanation and a lot of time together."

"Are you going alone?" he asked.

"I know where they are," she answered. "I arranged everything; you know that. There won't be any problem."

The Great Hall was almost empty. Only Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were there. Hermione assumed that the rest of the students were still sleeping, after the long party last night. They began to eat in silence, until Professor McGonagall got up, ten minutes later, and approached them.

"Mr Pott— Well, Harry, Hermione — have you thought about your future? About what you want to do, now that the war is over?"

"No, I didn't," Harry said. "But Kingsley offered me a position at the Auror Office at the Ministry —"

"He did?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Oh, Harry, that's wonderful! It's your dream!"

Harry smiled sadly. "Yeah. He told me last night. I don't even have to take my NEWTs. He reckons I have a lot of experience."

"So I assume you are not interested in coming back to Hogwarts?" Professor McGonagall asked, slightly disappointed.

"No, I reckon I'm not. I love Hogwarts, but I'm not very fond of classes and all that stuff. Sorry Professor."

"Well, I think you've done a lot and you deserve it," McGonagall sighed. "What about you, Ms Gr— Hermione?

"I do want to come back," said Hermione. "I've dreamt about finishing my studies ever since I received my letter."

"The Board of Governors and the professors have decided that classes will resume next Monday. The Hogwarts Express will depart tomorrow morning, so the students will have a few days off to enjoy the end of the war and to be with their families if they want. You can stay here if you wish."

"I can't," Hermione said. "I would be very behind in my studies if I started right now." Harry snorted and chuckled, as if saying '_you_, behind in your studies?' Hermione ignored him. "Besides, I have something to do. I think it'll be better if I start my seventh year in September."

"You will be welcome. Always," McGonagall told them with a smile, and left.

"So — an Auror," Hermione commented, smiling at Harry. "It's great, Harry."

Harry didn't return the grin.

"Yeah, but — Well, when I imagined my future as an Auror Ron — Ron was always with me." Hermione's smile vanished. "Kingsley told me he wanted you and him, too."

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Really. I don't think Ron will accept, though."

"No, I'm sure he'll refuse. It is strange that Kingsley is offering him a position, isn't it? After all, it was Ron who appointed him as Minister."

"And what about you? Aren't you interested?"

"You know I don't like to fight," Hermione said. "I want to complete my education and then I think I'll join the Ministry, perhaps in the Department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. I think I can do some good there."

Harry smiled knowingly. "I agree."

They resumed eating, without more talking, and they were almost finishing when Ron entered the Great Hall and sat down next to Harry.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," said Hermione. Harry, on the other hand, turned pale again and looked down at the table, ashamed.

Ron took a goblet and poured some milk in it. He drank it in one gulp, looked at Harry, and frowned. He turned towards Hermione.

"You told him," he said.

"Yes," she said, a bit ashamed. "Sorry."

Ron sighed. "It doesn't matter, I was going to tell him, anyway," he commented, crossing his arms over the table. "Well, I'm going to go to Gringotts to destroy the last horcrux. Do you want to come?" he said abruptly.

"Yes," answered Hermione immediately. If it was her last day with Ron, even though he wasn't the Ron she wanted, she was going to spend as much time with him as possible.

"I —" started to say Harry. "I don't know if —"

"Stop," said Ron harshly. "You're starting to make me sick."

"Sorry," muttered Harry. "Maybe it should be better if I don't go."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron. "It's the end of Voldemort, the definitive end of the war. You've fought him for years. He killed your parents. You have the right to come."

Harry didn't answer.

"When do you want to go?" Hermione asked.

"Soon," Ron said. "Gringotts opens at nine o'clock."

"Okay," said Harry.

No one spoke until both Harry and Hermione had finished their breakfast. By then, some students had begun to arrive at the Great Hall, and laughs and happy chattering could be heard all around the place.

Ron stood up and Harry and Hermione were doing the same when Mr and Ms Weasley, accompanied by Bill and Fleur, came into the Hall.

"Good Morning," said Mr Weasley. "Have you had breakfast already?"

"Yes, we've just finished," said Harry, not looking at anyone's faces.

"Where are you going?" asked Mrs Weasley, narrowing her eyes.

"To Gringotts."

"Gringotts?" asked Bill, frowning. "What for?"

"I have to visit the Lestranges' vault," Ron explained. "I have to destroy the last horcrux."

"You 'ave to explain what are zose 'orcruxes," piped up Fleur. "We keep 'earing about zem and we know nozing about zem."

"Ginny can tell you when she gets up," Ron said. "We have to go."

"Gringotts doesn't open 'til nine o'clock," said Bill. "We can go together."

"No," said Ron. "I'm not going to use the Floo Network. We'll see you later."

"But the goblins won't let you inside the Lestranges' vault," replied Bill.

Ron smiled dangerously. "Of course they will."

Bill stared at him open-mouthed, unable to reply.

"See you later," repeated Ron, and began to walk.

"Bye," said Hermione, and walked past the Weasleys and towards the Entrance Hall, with Harry.

Once there, Ron headed for the front doors and opened them. It was still snowing outside, but the wind was calm. Ron stepped out and then turned round.

"I'm going to say this one last time. I want you two to stop doing this. Your regret, your remorse, won't change anything. _I know you are sorry. I know that, if you could, you'd change the past._ But that doesn't matter! My family have almost forgiven you, and I want you to accept that."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because they need you. I want them to be happy. And Ginny loves you."

Harry stared at the snow. "I — I can't be with her, Ron."

"Yes, you can," interrupted Ron. "She's not ready now. But she'll be, eventually. Are you telling me that you're going to let her suffer just because you like to punish yourself?"

"Well, that's rich, coming from you!" Harry replied. "How many times had she asked you for a simple hug?"

"I can't love her back. But you can. You do. You want to be with her. I can't love my family. But I want them to be safe and happy. I want them, and you, to go on with your lives."

"Ginny will find someone better."

"She has been trying to find someone for years," argued Ron, "but she likes you."

"You told me, the first day here, that you wanted to curse me just for thinking about her that way."

"Things change," said Ron. "She deserves to be happy. All of them deserve happiness. And I want you both to be happy, too. The past is the past," he declared, and looked away. "I am not a monster," he added, surprising them. "I cannot love, but, in my own way, I care. I want my family to be happy. They have suffered enough. All of us have suffered enough. What happened cannot be changed, so there's no point in dwelling on it."

Neither Harry nor Hermione knew what to say.

"Enough drama for now," Ron said after a few moments. "Let's get to business." He looked up towards the cloudy sky before moving his head and looking back at them. "Fancy a fly?" he asked, with an odd smile.

"A _fly_?" Hermione asked, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"I can Apparate, but I'd like to fly to London."

"It's snowing!" Harry exclaimed, looking at Ron as if he were mad.

Ron's smile vanished. "I've faced far worse than this," he commented.

Hermione shivered, and she knew that Ron was remembering his journey through the mountains of the Tibet. She saw him again, lying in the snow, broken and defeated —

"Do you want to go or not?"

"But — how?" asked Hermione. "Neither Harry nor I have broomsticks here, and with this weather —"

"We don't need broomsticks," said Ron. "I can fly by myself. I've never done it, though. That's why I wanna try it. And for the weather, don't worry."

Hermione said "okay" a bit nervously.

Ron took his wand and moved it slowly around them. Hermione felt the air around them ripple, and she noticed that the snowflakes could not touch them now. Ron put the wand back in his pocket and stretched his arms. "Take my hands."

"You sure you can do this?" Hermione asked, afraid. Ron glared at her and Hermione, blushing, took his left hand. Harry took the right one.

"Off we go," Ron said.

Nothing could have prepared Hermione for what happened next. One instant, she was standing in the doorway, and the next, she felt and incredible pull behind her navel and was zooming through the air, so fast she cannot see anything under her. She closed her eyes as tightly as she could and noticed she was shrieking at the top of her lungs.

"It's absolutely incredible!" she heard Harry shout.

Gathering all her courage, she opened her eyes slowly and looked around. The snowflakes were passing them at such speed that they seemed long white lines. None of them were touching them, though, because the spell Ron had put around them was protecting them from the weather. Even the air seemed to be pushed away from them, because she could look forwards, something that would be impossible, at the speed they were flying. She looked behind her and downwards, and didn't see the castle. It seemed that, even though they had left the school barely a minute ago, they were already too far away from it.

She looked to her right and saw that Ron was looking forwards, concentrated; on his other side, Harry was looking around, his face showing how impressed and delighted he was.

"This is awesome!" he yelled. "We're travelling faster than a Firebolt! Faster than a thestral!"

They rose even more, high in the air, zooming through the dark clouds covering the sky. After another minute, they descended a bit and Hermione noticed that it has stopped snowing. Below them, the mountains, villages, woods and rivers were passing them at such speed that she could barely see them. Scared, she clutched Ron's hand tighter and he looked at her. "Calm down, Hermione. There's no danger. Enjoy the fly."

"I don't like flying and you know it!" she yelled.

Hermione looked forwards again, and thought about the last time she had travelled from Hogwarts to London. It had been more than a year and a half before, the night they had used the thestrals to go to the Ministry of Magic ... But this was much more impressive, as they were flying at a much greater speed.

She saw some cities pass under them as they continued to travel southwards. When fifteen minutes had passed since they had left Hogwarts, she saw how the number of buildings under then grew and a moment after they stopped suddenly in the air, miles above the centre of London.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Harry, awestruck. "We're already here! We've travelled from Hogwarts to London _in less than twenty minutes_?"

"We did," Ron said. "Time to descend."

Hermione shrieked again when she felt herself speeding downwards, but Ron slowed down before reaching the grounds and they landed softly in Diagon Alley, just in front of Gringotts, startling the people near them.

Hermione released Ron's hand and clutched her chest, panting heavily. She felt her legs tremble. She looked around and saw than a lot of people were staring at them, open-mouthed, and some of them were whispering.

"_It's Harry Potter!"_

"_Yes, and _that_ is Ronald Weasley — the one who defeated You-Know-Who!"_

"_Yeah, they descended from the sky, without broomsticks!"_

"— _I've read it in the Prophet, you know, he killed him somehow —"_

Ron didn't give a single glance at the people around them and moved towards the golden doors of the Bank.

A sudden flash blinded Hermione for a moment. She looked to her left and saw a tiny and excited wizard with a camera. "For the _Daily Prophet_, Mr Weasley!" he shouted.

Hermione saw Ron glare at the man. Then he made a sudden movement with his hand — like a slap — and the camera flew off the wizard's hands and hit the wall of Gringotts, shattering completely. The pieces fell to the floor, smoking slightly.

"I don't want photographs," said Ron coldly. "Now get out of my way."

Trembling and scared, the reporter retreated towards the crowd. Without another glance at him, Ron moved again towards the entrance of the bank, and Harry and Hermione followed him. The doors opened when they reached them, and they walked into the Hall.

"What do you wish, sir?" a goblin asked them. If he knew who they were, Hermione couldn't tell.

"I need to go to the Lestranges' vault," said Ron.

"The Lestranges' vault?" asked the goblin, startled. "That's impossible, sir," he added, shaking his head. "Only a member of the Lestrange family can —"

"There's no more Lestranges," interrupted Ron. "The ones alive are in Azkaban. I'm not asking for permission. I need to go there and I'll go there."

"We can't allow that," the goblin said, scowling. "We offer security and privacy to our clients. So no one can enter a vault that is not —"

"Spare me the explanation," Ron cut him in. "I don't care. This is a special situation. There's something in that vault that has to be destroyed, and I'm going to destroy it," he declared, and resumed walking towards the doors that lead to the tunnels and the underground vaults.

Upon hearing this, several goblins moved at once and stood between Harry, Ron and Hermione and the door.

"We don't tolerate stealing," another goblin said, frowning and glaring at them. "Get out."

"I don't want to hurt you," Ron said. "But if you stand in my way, I'll do it."

"Ron," Hermione said, seeing how this could lead to a serious fight and to an important problem between goblins and wizards. She had read enough history of magic to know that very little things could result in a war between the two races. "I think there must be an arrangement. If we explain to them what we need to do —"

"We don't care," the goblin interrupted her. "Access to a vault is only permitted to its owners or the possessor of the key."

"But this is important," Harry interjected. "There is a dangerous possession of Lord Voldemort in that vault. We need to destroy it."

"He Who Must Not Be Named is dead, or so we've heard," the goblin replied.

"You can say he is," Ron spoke again, "because _I_ defeated him. So I advise you to stand aside."

The goblins looked apprehensive now. "So — you're Ronald Weasley?" the goblin asked.

"I am. And I'm going to do what I have to do, whether you allow it or not. But it will be better if you allow it."

"We are not going to steal anything," Hermione said, almost begging. "You can go with us if you want."

"You want to destroy something in that vault. That's like stealing for us."

"It has to be done!" Harry said, exasperated. "It contains a piece of Voldemort's soul! Surely you don't want something like that inside the bank."

"It would be a very bad publicity," Hermione added. "If people knew it, they could decide that coming to Gringotts is potentially dangerous and could take out everything they keep here."

"And the Ministry could open an investigation," continued Harry. "Having such an object is illegal. Surely you wouldn't want that?"

The goblins looked nervous and doubtful. They began to whisper hurriedly in their incomprehensible language.

After a minute, Ron began to tap on the floor with his right foot. He was getting impatient. Hermione wished with all her heart that the goblins accepted, because if they didn't ...

"All right, we've decided you can destroy that object," said the goblin, who seemed to be the leader. "But a Gringotts goblin will go with you. Besides, you'll need the Clankers to reach that vault, as it is one of the safest."

"Good decision," Ron agreed. "Let's go then."

"Glarnuk, get the Clankers and accompany them."

"Those Clankers won't be necessary," said Ron. "Come on."

"But — without them we cannot —" the goblin named Glarnuk protested.

Ron didn't say anything more. He grabbed the goblin's shoulder with one hand and Harry and Hermione's hands with the other. The door leading to the tunnels opened on its own accord, and the next thing Hermione knew was that they were flying again, this time through the tunnels. Hermione heard her own yell, but, almost as soon as it had started, it ended, and she was on her feet again. However, she felt so dizzy that she fell on her bum, panting heavily and trembling.

"Merlin, Ron, don't ever do that again! I —" she scolded, but her voice tailed away when she heard something roaring loudly.

"We h-haven't got the C-c-clankers!" the goblin yelled, still trembling.

Hermione looked up and saw what the roaring thing was and her heart skipped a beat. It seemed that the rumours about Gringotts were true, because she was staring at an enormous dragon protecting several vaults that were placed behind it. It was chained, and seemed to be blind, because it was sniffing, as if trying to locate the intruders, but was close enough to burn them alive with its fire.

Hermione stood up as quickly as she could. The dragon roared again, sniffed once more and then shot a stream of fire towards them.

The goblin yelled and retreated. Hermione let out a shriek and covered her face with her arms. But Ron didn't flinch. He raised his wand, its tip lighted up and the stream of fire spread before them, as if stopped by an invisible wall.

The dragon roared again, but Ron pointed his wand at him and Hermione saw something like hot air flow from the wand to the dragon's head. The gigantic beast blinked and shook its head, and an instant later dropped onto the floor, apparently asleep.

"Come on," said Ron, lowering his wand. "It will sleep for one hour, at least."

The goblin seemed gobsmacked, and approached the sleeping dragon warily.

"How did you —"

"Come on," repeated Ron, striding towards one of the vaults.

"Wait, I need to op—" the goblin began to say, moving again.

Ron didn't let him finish. He touched the vault's door and it opened immediately, revealing a chamber the size of a cave, full with coins and different treasures.

"Rich, aren't they?" Harry commented as the four of them stepped into the vault.

Hermione looked around, beginning to search for the golden cup that once had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff and Hepzibah Smith, but, due perhaps to his ability to feel them, it was Ron who found it. He rose up in the air and took it in his hands.

"It's this," he told the goblin once he had landed. "We've finished here. Thanks for your help."

It was a curious thing to say, Hermione thought, because the goblin had not done anything at all.

They stepped out of the vault and the goblin closed it. A second later, Ron touched his shoulder and they vanished, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

"Where the hell did he go?" asked Harry, frowning.

"I don't know," said Hermione who was as perplexed as him.

An instant later, Ron Apparated again, this time alone. "I took him to the Hall," Ron explained before Harry or Hermione could ask. "Take my hands, we're going back to Hogwarts, but this time we'll Apparate."

Hermione sighed, relieved, as she grabbed Ron's hand. She didn't fancy the idea of flying back to the castle.

They appeared a few yards away from the oak doors, and Hermione saw that it was still snowing there.

"You did a good job in Gringotts convincing the goblins" Ron told them. "I would have done something a bit more forceful. Controlling my impatience is something I haven't mastered completely."

"I'm glad you didn't," Hermione said. "Helping you made me feel useful. As if we were a team again ... like before."

Harry smiled, but Ron didn't. Instead, he took out the golden cup, the last horcrux, and dropped it. He then took his wand and, once more, the Dark Shadow poured from the tip and entered the cup. As it had happened with the other horcruxes, the cup began to shake, and, after a few seconds, it let out a distant scream and stopped moving. Then, with another flick of his wand, Ron Vanished it.

"This is the end," Ron said. "There's nothing of Voldemort's left in this world."

That idea, far from cheering Hermione up, like it should, saddened her. There was no reason for Ron to stay at Hogwarts now.

"When are you leaving?" she asked bluntly.

Ron looked at her. Harry did, too.

"After lunch, I suppose."

"Isn't there anything we could do to make you stay?" Harry asked, sad. "I don't want you to go, Ron."

"You're forgetting I am not the same Ron that was your friend, _again_. But no, there's nothing you can do. I don't have a reason to stay," he answered, looking at the castle. Then he looked at them again. "I have to go to the Ministry," he announced suddenly. "I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

Harry and Hermione, surprised, nodded, and Ron Disapparated. They exchanged a glance and then walked into the Entrance Hall, brushing the snowflakes off themselves.

"You aren't going to do anything?" Harry asked Hermione, and she stopped and stared at him.

"Anything? About what?"

"About Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "Aren't you going to try and convince him to stay?"

Hermione smiled sadly.

"You heard him. There's nothing I can do. And I saw what he did, Harry. I saw how he suffered, how far he went to stop loving. He can't love me, and I can't love him like he is right now. Perhaps — perhaps it'll be better if he leaves," she added, and felt tears welling in her eyes.

Harry glared at her. "You don't mean that!"

"I don't know," she said. "That's what he said, that I could be happier, move on, if he wasn't around. I know I can't move on, but s-seeing him, w-without having him — well, not really h-him, the old Ron ... But you're right. I don't want him to leave. I want him here."

Harry's expression softened. "Sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to upset you," he said, in a soothing voice. "It's very hard for me; I cannot imagine how it must be for you."

"Don't worry, Harry. I've accepted it. As Ron says, what it's done, it's done." She sighed deeply. "Let's go to the common room," she added, walking again. Harry sighed, too, and followed her.

o o o

It was near lunchtime when the portrait of the Fat Lady opened and Ron walked into the common room. Harry and Hermione were sitting near the fire, with Ginny, Neville and Luna, who had joined them after breakfast. Harry and Hermione had told the others about their trip to Gringotts, and then had spent the morning talking and catching up with Luna.

"Everything's all right at the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron answered, sitting in an armchair.

"Know what, Ron?" piped up Luna, staring at him curiously. "You look all mysterious dressed like that. But black doesn't really suit you. I think you might have been bitten by an _Irish brainbee_. They make you more cunning and awaken hidden talents, but they usually have a terrible effect on your taste in fashion. Have you been in Ireland recently?"

Ron looked at her with almost the same face the old Ron put every time Luna said something odd, and Hermione felt her insides melt with longing. His mouth twitched a bit, forming an _almost_ true smile.

"It suits me now," he said. "And _no_, I haven't been in Ireland. Nothing bit me, don't worry," he assured, before directing his gaze towards Ginny. "Come with me, Ginny. I want to talk to you and the rest of the family before lunch."

"About what?" she asked.

"Just come, okay?" said Ron standing up. Ginny did the same. "You two come as well," Ron added, looking at Harry and Hermione.

"See you at lunch," Ginny told Neville and Luna before exiting the common room.

Ron lead them towards the guest rooms corridor and, once there, gathered all his family members (Mrs Weasley, Fleur, Fred and George. Mr Weasley and Bill were at work) in his and Harry's room. The room was now crowded, so Ron took his wand and magically enlarged it. Then he conjured a large couch so they could sit.

"What's the matter, Ron?" Mrs Weasley asked, intrigued.

Ron remained standing, and for a few moments did nothing but pace the room back and forth slowly.

"I hadn't planned to tell you anything of this," he said, at last. "But well, Hermione convinced me otherwise."

Everyone in the room turned to Hermione, and she felt herself blushing. "I? I don't know what — what you're talking about, Ron —"

"I'm talking about what I did, where I went, after I left last year," clarified Ron.

Hermione opened her mouth in surprise.

"She asked me to tell her, for old times' sake. So that's why I'm telling you, as you are my family."

Everyone was now staring at Ron, open-mouthed. The tension and the anxiousness in the room were almost palpable.

"After what had happened, I felt terribly hurt. I believed they had never cared for me. And someone called Omega came to me ..."

And so Ron told them a brief description of what he had showed Hermione, but he was — Hermione noticed — skipping the worst parts, telling them that he had travelled to the Tibet and how the process had happened. He didn't tell them about the anguish he had felt during the journey, or about the terrible night when he had wished to die.

"So," he said, finishing, "that's how I became what I am. I wanted to get rid of my love for Hermione, of my friendship with Harry, and be able to stop the war and save you. I did all that. I don't feel love anymore. And there's no turning back. To get the Source, you have to accept that what you can never get what you sacrifice back."

Ron fell silent. No one said a word. All of them were taking in what they had heard. Mrs Weasley was crying quietly.

"You had a family who cared for you," she said at last, almost whispering. "You should have come home. We would have helped you."

"I couldn't," Ron replied. "Nobody could have helped me. Only I could help myself. It hurt too much. I needed to feel whole again, to find myself. That's what I did."

Mrs Weasley didn't say anything more. Hermione felt that she had to say something, but didn't know what. She opened her mouth. "I —" she began to say, but Ron stopped her.

"Don't," he said, in his commanding voice. "Don't say you're sorry, Hermione. You've said it enough times. We all know you are sorry."

"But everything's —" she protested, but Ron silenced her again.

"What happened happened," he said sternly, cutting her in, and then he addressed his family again. "The war has ended. I have nothing more to do here. I cannot be with you. So this afternoon, after lunch, I'll leave the country."

Mrs Weasley closed her eyes tightly, as though she was trying to fight back the tears, but didn't say anything.

"I'll keep in touch. I'll send letters telling you what I'm doing. I don't need an owl, so you'll receive them instantly. I can't love you, but I remember loving you, caring for you, and for the sake of those memories, I'll be in touch. I'll visit sometimes. But I advise you to go on with your lives and not to worry about me. I'll be fine.

"Forget what Harry and Hermione did. They care about me. You saw it yesterday, they were ready to die for me. They wanted to be with me even when I tried to prevent them from coming."

Hermione opened her mouth, shocked.

_Why did you threaten us, then? Why did you hurt Harry? Were you trying to test us?_

_No … I had my reasons._

Now she understood. Ron was proving to his family that she and Harry cared … Another perfect movement in a perfect planned chess match to ensure the end of the war and the happiness of his family.

"They were part of the family," continued Ron. "Welcome them back. You need one another. If you love my old self, you need them, because what's left of that person is in them. They are part of everything I've done ever since I was eleven years old. These last months don't change that. Family forgives. I told you that the day would come when you'd need them, and they you. Well, this is the day. I'm not stupid. I know you will miss me. Stick together and everything will be all right. Live your lives, now that you are free and safe ... and be happy."

Hermione felt the tears pricking her eyes.

"Ron ..." Mrs Weasley muttered. "Oh, son ..." she got up and hugged him, and this time Ron didn't push her off, but put his right arm over her shoulders and hugged her back.

"Don't cry," he said softly. There was no love, no emotion in his voice, but he was trying to be caring, Hermione noticed. Perhaps because he could remember loving them? "I'll be fine. Nothing can harm me, you know it. You don't need to check the clock anymore, Mum. None of its hands will point to 'mortal peril' ever again. Wherever I am, I'll always keep an eye on you."

"I've a-always b-been p-proud of you," she hiccupped against his broad chest. "I love you, Ron."

Hermione saw Ginny wiping her tears, and couldn't do anything to hold back her own.

"I know," he said, caressing her head. "I know."

"It's lunchtime," Ron said. "Let's go to the Great Hall, shall we?"

Mrs Weasley nodded and released Ron, brushing her face. Ron opened the door and walked out into the corridor. Fleur, who was also crying, embraced her mother-in-law, and Mrs Weasley leant her head on her shoulder.

They all followed Ron towards the Entrance Hall. There, Mrs Weasley broke free from Fleur and addressed Harry and Hermione.

"I told Harry that he could come round for meals to The Burrow when he wanted, but ... why don't you come and stay with us?"

Hermione felt warmth spreading throughout her body. "Are — are you sure?"

"I am," she said, trying to smile. "I've been counting you both among my children for a long time. You don't have another place to stay in."

Harry stared at her. "I — I don't know. I shouldn't."

"At least for dinner," Mrs Weasley insisted.

Behind his mother's back, Ron was looking at him intently.

"Okay," accepted Harry, looking at the floor.

"And you, dear?" she asked Hermione.

Hermione stared at her. Behind Mrs Weasley, Fred, George, Ginny and Fleur were watching the scene.

"I — I don't know," she stuttered. "And I have to go to Australia and bring my parents back."

"But you have to arrange a Portkey or something like that," Mrs Weasley replied. "Arthur can take care of that. Come with us until everything's ready."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"Come home, Hermione," interjected Ginny. "You can't be on your own."

Hermione didn't know what to do. She was very grateful for the offer, and lowered her head so they could not see her tears. But could she accept? Could she stand being at The Burrow without Ron? But the alternative was staying at Hogwarts or alone, at her empty house.

"I — I can't decide now. It's ... too soon."

Mrs Weasley nodded. "Okay then," she said, and they all headed for the Great Hall.

Five minutes later, when they had barely begun to eat, Bill and Mr Weasley joined them at the table. Upon sitting on the bench, Bill looked at Ron.

"You three caused quite a commotion in Gringotts this morning," he said. "It was everyone's topic of conversation the entire morning."

"They are not angry, are they? The goblins," asked Hermione, worried.

"I daresay they are a bit afraid," Bill answered, with the slightest trace of a smile. "But everything's allright, Hermione. Don't worry."

Lunch went quietly. Mr Weasley updated the others about what was happening at the Ministry and how Kingsley were changing things, and then fell silent for a moment, as though pondering how to say something.

"I talked to Percy," he blurted finally. "Well, to tell the truth, it was him who talked to me."

"Percy?" said Mrs Weasley, surprised.

"And what does the prat have to say?" Fred asked, frowning. Mrs Weasley glared at him, but he ignored her.

"He's ashamed," Mr Weasley told them. "He told me that they were keeping a close watch on everyone, so they could not contact us sooner, and that he was sorry. For everything."

"How convenient," Fred muttered, scowling. "Now that the war has ended, he wants to make amends?"

"That's not it," interjected Ron, startling them all. "I saw him today, too."

"He talked _to you_?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"No, he was too scared of me," Ron answered. "But I read him. He's truly sorry, and deeply ashamed. That, and no other, is the main reason why he didn't contact you sooner."

"He asked me whether he could come home tonight," Mr Weasley continued. "I said he could."

"Oh, Arthur! Those are excellent news!" Mrs Weasley said, delighted.

"But he'd better prepare a good apology!" Ginny said.

A moment later he had finished the piece of chocolate tart he had put into his plate, Ron stood up suddenly and, without a word, walked to the staff table, stopping right in front of McGonagall. Hermione saw him saying something, and then he extended his arm. The new Headmistress clutched it, staring at him sadly. Then Ron moved towards where Hagrid was, and said something to him too. Hagrid's expression turned into one of bewilderment, and then into one of sadness, and Hermione knew that Ron was saying goodbye. The time had come.

Ron walked back to Gryffindor table and said, "It's time."

"Time?" Mr Weasley asked, confuse. "Time for what?"

"To leave."

"To leave?" Mr Weasley repeated. "Where? Ron, you don't have to go anywhere!"

"I must," Ron replied. He put a hand over his father's shoulder. "Take care of Mum. Do the right thing at the Ministry."

Mr Weasley was so shocked that he was unable to say anything.

Ron moved towards her mum, and she couldn't refrain. She jumped to her feet, launched herself at his neck and began to sob.

"I will see you, Mum. I'll be fine," he said dispassionately. "Don't worry about me. I promise I'll visit more often than Charlie. Distance means nothing to me, after all."

Hermione noticed that almost everyone in the Great Hall was watching Ron say goodbye. He broke free from her mother's grasp and said goodbye to Bill, Fleur, the twins and Ginny. She was trying not to cry, but she was failing.

"Don't cry, Ginny," Ron said softly. "You're stronger than this."

Upon hearing these words, Ginny began to sob harder, and Ron pulled her to him and embraced her. "Here," he whispered to her. "This is the hug you wanted. It's not much, but it is all I can give you."

Ginny hugged him tightly, and Ron did the same, kissing the top of her head. Then he released her, and she parted from him, wiping her tears away.

"Your parents are all right, Hermione," Ron told her. "Don't worry about them. Take care, both of you. Make a better world."

Harry looked down, shaking, but Hermione was unable to stop looking at Ron.

"It is better if you don't come," he said to them all.

Ron walked along the aisle between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables towards the doors. Hermione felt the tears in her eyes. It didn't matter that she had told herself that, when this moment came, she should be strong. She could not hold back her tears. For a moment, she remembered those months in the run with Harry, after their incursion to the Ministry, when everything had gone downhill, when she had believed that she wouldn't see Ron ever again. Then, he had unexpectedly come back, changed and powerful, and now was about to leave again.

She saw him saying goodbye to Neville, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender; she saw Dean clutching his hand and thanking him for having found him; she saw Luna thanking him for rescuing her from Malfoy Manor; and then he exited the Great Hall.

_What are you doing? Follow him! At least say goodbye to him properly!_

She stood up instantly, and Harry did the same. Both of them started to run towards the door. When they crossed the doorway, they saw that Ron was near the front doors. He looked at them, not surprised at all.

"I knew you'd come. I wish you hadn't, though."

Ron stepped outside and climbed down the front stairs. He walked a few yards across the grounds and then turned back to face Harry and Hermione.

"Don't cry, Hermione," he said.

"Ron, please, don't go," begged Harry. "You've always been my best mate. I know I was the worst friend ever, but —" he shook his head. "I — I've missed you so much. Don't leave us again, please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I did, for everything. Please, I need you in my life. I'll do anything you want."

"I made up my mind, Harry. There's nothing you can do to change that."

Hermione couldn't help it and let out a loud sob.

"Don't cry," Ron repeated, getting closer to her. He raised one hand and touched her hair, startling her. "I really liked your hair," he commented. There wasn't love, or care, in his voice, but his gesture, his touch, even his tone, was surprisingly tender. Closing her eyes, she leant against his hand, trying to memorise it, knowing it was the last time.

"Take care of yourself, Hermione," he said, and removed his hand, leaving her bereft and cold. "You too, Harry. See you."

"Ron, please, don't leave!" someone yelled behind them. Hermione turned her head and saw Ginny climbing down the stairs. "Please ..."

Ron's expression didn't change. "Goodbye, Gin," he said. Then turned round and walked away from them, ready to Disapparate.

"Maybe you should stay a bit longer," said a sudden voice behind them. Startled, they all wheeled around to see who had spoken, and Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. It could not be true ...

* * *

><p><em>Yeah, another cliffhanger. I'm cruel. Nah, I'm not, not really. When I wrote this, I just had to scroll down a bit, so it wasn't very important. For you, of course, it's different ...<em>

_Well, my readers, we're almost there. Chapter 24, __**The Last Revelation**__, will be posted this Saturday. It's another incredibly long chapter and, probably, one of the most important in the whole story, if not the most. Get ready._


	26. The Last Revelation

_Well, here it is. I spent months and months thinking about this chapter. I spent weeks writing it, and rewriting it. I don't think it's perfect, because it is too complicated. But here it is, the core of this story. Enjoy it._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 24<strong>_

**The Last Revelation**

"You!" bellowed Ron, frowning.

Harry was looking at the person who had spoken with confusion on his face, because he had never seen the man; but Hermione knew perfectly well who he was, because she had seen him in Ron's memories just the night before.

There, standing in the snow, was Ron's guide, the man who called himself 'Omega'.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked, moving a few steps forward.

"Who is he?" asked Harry, furrowing his brow.

Ron turned his head to look at Harry. "You can see him?"

"Of course I can see him," Harry said, surprised by the question. "He's there, isn't he?"

"I spent weeks travelling with him, and no one seemed to see him except me," Ron explained. Harry's mouth opened widely.

"You mean that he is that man Hermione told me about? _Omega_?"

"He is," Ron nodded, his gaze fixed on the silent Omega. "You said that we wouldn't see each other ever again."

"I told you 'this is goodbye'," Omega replied. "And it was, until now."

"Why are you here? And why can they see you?" Ron demanded to know. Hermione stared at him, a bit taken aback. He seemed more confused than she had seen him ever since he had returned, four days ago.

"Obviously, they see me because _I_ want them to see me," Omega answered. "And I am here because I have one last thing to do."

"One last —?" began to ask Ron, but he couldn't finish, because suddenly, Omega started talking once more.

"Ronald, wonderful man — you did it. You did it brilliantly," he exclaimed, and Ron stared at him, perplexed and with his mouth hanging open. "You were everything we expected ... and even more," Omega continued, now walking slowly towards them.

Hermione was totally confused. She looked at Ginny, who was also watching Omega utterly bewildered.

"What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort, Ronald, Voldemort!" Omega said. "You do not have the slightest idea of the incredible feat you have achieved, of the importance of what you have done."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Of course I know what I've done."

"You do not. Not really," Omega replied, his hypnotic black eyes fixed on Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked. "Explain yourself, because you're not making any sense."

"You have saved the world, Ronald. In the most complete sense of the phrase. What you did will never, ever be forgotten."

Ron arched his eyebrows. "I already knew that, thanks."

"You do not understand, but you will do," stated Omega. "That is why I am here — to tell you the complete truth, to tell you what I concealed from you during our travel."

Ron stared at him, frowning.

"Are you?" he said, with a trace of incredulity in his voice. "You are going to tell me _what_ you really are, then?" asked Ron, raising and eyebrow disbelievingly.

"I shall tell you that, amongst other things."

"Yeah?" asked Ron, apparently surprised by the answer. "Well, I'm anxious to know," he added. "Explain, then. I'm waiting."

Omega walked a bit without saying anything. Hermione watched him, fascinated by his odd appearance. She, like Ron, was anxious to know who this man was, and how he knew all the things he knew.

"Why are you letting us see and hear you?" asked Harry suddenly, furrowing his brow. "Why didn't you wait until Ron had left, so you could speak to him alone?"

Omega eyed Harry for a moment. "Harry Potter. You have done your part well, too. Very well."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I came here because you must know what I have to say. You — and Hermione, of course — have your part in this story, a very important one, and you must know the truth, because that is the only way we can put things the way they must be."

"'_We'_?" asked Harry.

"What do you mean, 'put things the way they must be'?" said Ron, his frown intensifying. It was obvious to Hermione that he was getting impatient.

"I mean exactly that," answered Omega. "Things should not have happened this way. We got you ready to do what you have to do the way it had to be done, but we had to change our plans. And now I have to try to put things the way they must be. That is why I am here."

"You got us ready? What do you mean?" Harry asked. "I've never seen you before."

Omega gazed at Harry intensely before answering.

"Do you, Harry Potter, think that the fact that Lord Voldemort tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone the year you came to Hogwarts happened by chance?" Omega asked. Harry opened his mouth, surprised, but Omega continued, not letting him say anything. "Do you think that it was a coincidence that you went into that bathroom after Ginevra had thrown Tom Riddle's diary away there, allowing you to find it? Do you think that it was luck what caused that Peter Pettigrew hid with the family of your best friend? Do you believe that the fact that Cornelius Fudge had a newspaper with a photograph of Peter Pettigrew the day he visited Sirius Black in Azkaban was a coincidence? Do you think that the three of you met _by chance_? Do you really believe it?"

Hermione felt her body shake. What was this person implying? "What are you trying to tell us? That all of those — those events were planned?" she asked.

Omega looked at her. "In a way, they were. You three were intended to meet even before you were born. Everything that happened to you led you to the point where you are now. We took care of that."

"Are you telling us that we are like — like pawns, in some sort of game? Because I refuse to believe it!" shouted Harry, who now seemed annoyed.

"You are not like pawns," said Omega calmly. "In the end, you are at this point because of the choices you made. But you were led to this point by us."

"Who the hell are you?" asked Ron, his voice demanding. "Tell us now."

"People have given us a lot of names across history," Omega explained, "even when they did not know what we were or if we actually existed. We are the _protectors of the Purpose_, but, for you, I think that 'Fates' is the better name there is."

Hermione opened her mouth in astonishment and disbelief. Fates? Was he serious? It was not possible. It couldn't be.

"You're joking," Harry said. But Hermione looked instinctively at Ron, who was staring intently at Omega, in total silence.

"It's true. You really exist," he said at last.

"We do," said Omega. "We are an only entity, but with, as you would put it, seven 'parts' or 'personalities'. I am the last one to appear. That's why I told you that the name 'Omega' suited me. We don't have individual names."

"Are you telling me that the Fates exist, and that they are people with bodies and all that? You must think we are stupid," argued Harry.

"We are not like that," Omega told them. "We do not have bodies. We are not human, or even physical beings. What you see, what you hear, is just a representation I created to talk to and interact with you, nothing else. What you see exists only in your minds. Ronald can confirm that."

Hermione, Harry and Ginny looked at him. "Is it true?" Harry asked. "Do you really believe him?"

"I can see the magic in everything," Ron told them, but with his eyes fixed on Omega. "I see you, I see the castle, I see the grounds. But I cannot see him. My eyes perceive his image, but my mind, my powers, don't. It's as if he was an illusion," Ron explained. "Yes, I believe him. The things he knows ... It makes sense. Besides, he can't lie, can you?"

"No, I cannot lie," confirmed Omega.

Hermione stared at Omega again. Could it be true? Could he really be one of the _Fates_? She remembered reading one of his father's books, back at home, the summer after her first year. It was a book about Greek Mythology, and, among the myriad of gods, there were these three, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, the _Moirae_, the Greek goddesses of destiny. The three goddesses that spun, measured and cut the threads representing people's lives. The legend had looked interesting, but ridiculous, to her. And when later on she had begun to study Divination, she had felt reassured in her idea that future was not written and, therefore, could not be read. Yes, prophecies _did_ exist, but it didn't mean that people had a destiny written on stone.

But, what did 'protectors of the purpose' mean?

"No, it can't be," she said out loud, shaking her head. "I refuse to believe it. We control our lives, _we _make our own choices. I can't believe you are sort of — of ... a god."

"I do not pretend to be a god," Omega said. "And I never stated that you do not control your lives, or make your own choices. We are not the _Moirae_, nor the _Parcae_, the _Norns_ or any other names people have given us across the world and the centuries. What you would call 'Fate' doesn't work how people think it works."

Hermione opened her mouth in astonishment, while Harry and Ginny furrowed their brows, not understanding what Omega was talking about. "How do you know I was thinking about them?"

"Knowledge is our main tool. I know everything that has happened in this universe since it began. That includes every single thought that has ever crossed your minds. I know everything about you, even things you cannot remember."

"No, it can't be."

"It can, and it is," Omega replied. "I know the exact words your father said to your mother when he asked her to marry him, during that weekend they spent in the Highlands in 1976; I know how badly you had wanted to make friends during all your life, and your sufferings due to your inability to get some; I know that the first time you showed magical abilities you blew up your TV. You were six years old and your parents wanted to take you to the park instead of letting you see _Mary Poppins_; I know that the third thing you smelled in the _Amortentia _Potion was Ronald's hair. And I stop here, because you do not want me to continue."

Hermione was so utterly embarrassed that she didn't know where to look. She hadn't even realised that it had been her who had caused the TV to blow up on that occasion. How did this _man_ know all this? Could it be true, that he was one of the Fates? Ron had told them that, even though they could see him, he was not really there ... And had he not known that Harry and she were sleeping together, despite being thousands of miles away? Had he not known that George had been injured?

But, if it was true, if he _really_ was one — or part — of the Fates ... the idea was simply overwhelming. The implications were almost devastating. It was too much.

"We are not gods," Omega said, speaking again. "To say the truth, you should not know anything about us. What I am about to tell you has never been revealed to a human being before. That is how it should be, but, to put things right, we have to do it."

Hermione and Harry exchanged a confused look.

"Explain _now_," Ron demanded. "I've been wondering a lot of things, Omega, these last days. I've been wondering about the things you told me, or, rather, about the things you didn't tell me."

"I know," Omega said. "I did not expect less from you."

He made a short pause and then started to explain.

"This is a complicate subject. You will not understand everything. Even we do not understand it completely. But you were right, Ronald. Though you cannot really understand what you call 'Fate', it is true that there is some purpose in the world. This world, this universe, exists for a reason," he explained. "We shall not reveal _what_ or _who_ created it, or what we know about these facts. It does not matter, and, to tell the truth, we do not care about it. What matters is that there is a reason, a purpose, for its existence, and you, the human race, along other races and creatures, the ones that possess a soul, are meant to develop it, to finish it, to make it what it must be. Yours is the ability and the obligation to complete it. This reason, this 'what it must be', is what we call _The Purpose_, and that _Purpose_ is the reason of our existence. As I have told you, we are its protectors."

"I am not following you," Harry said. Hermione waited for Omega to resume his explanation, still in awe after what she had heard. Were they about to find the reason of existence? Were they about to discover what hundreds and hundreds of men and women had thought about, had tried to understand for centuries? If this _man_ — or whatever he was — was really part of the Fates — and she had _almost_ accepted that he _really_ was — surely he was going to reveal those fundamental truths. She felt a sense of anticipation fill her.

"Imagine the world as a big house or building," Omega continued. "You, humans, along other races, are the inhabitants, but also the workers. You work on it, putting the bricks, the stones, making new rooms or arranging and changing old ones. You are the constructors, and your mission is to convert that house into something great, into something wonderful. Into something, in short, worth living in. That is _the Purpose_, making the world a wonderful place to live in. And to achieve that you have to make sacrifices, have to suffer, have to work hard and even fight those who seek to destroy it, or try to use it for their own benefit. But in the end, even wars and destruction can contribute to it, and the result will be worth all the efforts and sufferings.

"Of course, the greatness of _the Purpose_ is not just the final result, the world that will come of it, but how much it cost to get it. You know very well that things that don't cost any effort are much less appreciated that those which are hard to get."

Omega made a pause a looked at each of them in turn before resuming his explanation. "Of course, you humans know nothing about this purpose or objective. But you are born with the desire of happiness, of love, of a good life. That is what makes you work for _the Purpose_ even though you do not know what it is. Your nature makes you want to build a better world for your children, for the people you love. Evidently, if you simply did what it is necessary to achieve it, what would be the interest of Creation? If you always did what is right, what would be the objective? That is the reason why each and every one of you has good and evil inside you. Good is what makes you work in favour of _the Purpose_, and Evil is what makes you work against it. Working in favour of _the Purpose_ might mean sacrifice, and a hard life, but something good in the end — though maybe not for oneself; working against it is usually easier, but it means something bad in the end.

"That and no other is the reason you have Free Will: so that you can choose the path to follow, so that you can choose how you want to live, and, above all, so that you can choose how to influence others."

Omega felt silent again. No one said anything. All of them, Hermione supposed, were trying to understand what they were hearing.

"Destiny doesn't exist," Omega explained. "This is essential. Ron explained it to you. You have Free Will, you can choose. The word 'destiny' means inevitability, and there is no such thing ... though you can make things inevitable by making choices. I know it is hard to understand, because this is a very complicated subject, and we will talk about it later."

"Then what is your role in this?" asked Harry. "If we have Free Will and there is no such thing as destiny, what is what you do?"

"We are the Protectors of _the Purpose_," repeated Omega. "I have told you that your role — and of the rest of creatures that have a soul — is to work in favour of _the Purpose_, to make it come true. You are naturally drawn to this. But all of you have evil in you as well. And some of you are so evil that you put _the Purpose_ in danger. Your ability to make good things is only matched by your ability to destroy them. The reason of our existence is to make sure _the Purpose_ is achieved. We, as an entity, appeared long ago, in the awakening of humanity. And, as the immortal beings that we are, we have been watching you ever since."

"You said to me that you were the last of you kind," Ron interjected. "How is that, then?"

"You could say that we have different 'personalities'. Though we share one Mind, each of these 'personalities' is an _expert_ in, or understands better, one part of the world. We are seven, and six of us appeared at the very beginning: Love, Hate, Science, Art, Dream and Thought. The last one, which is to say, I, appeared the last, and my 'area of expertise' is magic. I appeared amongst my equals when the first magical child was born, more than six thousand years ago."

Hermione opened her mouth, trying to take in what she was hearing. "What does that mean?" she asked. "Your 'areas of expertise', I mean."

"They represent what each of us understands better. That is the reason why I was the one who showed Ronald how to get his Source. This is a simplification, of course. You cannot really understand the way we think, so do not bother. Your minds are not like ours.

"We know everything that has happened until the present moment, every single detail. But not only that: we know what different choices you can make when faced with a decision and the different futures that would occur should one specific choice be taken."

"But there are unlimited options!" yelled Harry. "How can you —?"

"I have already told you that you cannot understand it," said Omega, interrupting Harry. "But, to tell the truth, there are not unlimited choices. Usually there are only a few. We can predict, let's say, the _likeliness_ of each of them, so, to certain point, we can predict the future. But we do not know what choice you will take without a doubt, except when you have already made that decision, of course. Free Will is not as simple as you think it is. It is not just 'I can do anything I want'."

"Then I don't understand anything," said Harry.

"You can do anything you want, Harry, that is true. _But you do not choose what you want_."

Harry stared at Omega, perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to say what I see in your future, for the next ten minutes?" Omega asked. "I see you were you are, listening to me. I could tell you that you do not have another choice, because you have already chosen to listen to me. And yet, you could go and leave."

"Then?" asked Harry. Hermione didn't understand, either.

"You can leave, but you are not going to do it. So, do you really have a choice? I will use another example: you could take out your wand and kill Ginny right now."

"WHAT!" yelled Harry, outraged. Ginny opened her eyes wide, completely shocked.

"You could," said Omega. "Nothing is stopping you. Well, Ronald could stop you, but you could try. The problem, Harry, is that you do not want to do it. Taking out your wand and killing Ginny is completely contrary to your nature and your wishes and desires. So I can tell you that you do not have a choice. And that is something I could not foresee."

"This makes no sense," said Hermione. "You say that he does not have a choice, and yet he could do it?"

"We can predict the likeliness of choices that are part of your nature," explained Omega. "But this power has a flaw."

"A flaw," repeated Ron. "What flaw?"

"All of you have what we call _the Dark Zone_. This Dark Zone is the quintessence of Free Will. The Dark Zone allows you to do anything. The choices that lay there are so unlikely that not even us can predict them. To us, it is as if those choices did not exist. Harry, in a few minutes you are going to make another choice. You will have two options. One of them is much more probable than the other. But I can see what will happen if you choose one thing or the other. But if you took your wand right now and killed Ginny, I could not have predicted it. You can say that that will never happen, and yet, sometimes it happens, and some people make choices that, according to their natures, they never should.

"But normally, you make choices according to your nature, so you are conditioned by it. And you do not choose your nature. It is something innate to you, that is afterwards complemented with education, experiences, and the influence of other people."

"This is too complicated," commented Ginny.

"It is," said Omega. "I have told you, you are not supposed to know about this.

"Well," he continued. "Fate is not what peoples usually think it is. The ancient Greeks believed that destiny controlled everything, and that even gods were subjected and dominated by it. They believed that the _Moirae_ could cut the thread of a person's life and this person would die. People believed that when something was fated, it would happen, because the universe would move and act to make it happen. None of this is true.

"People can decide to be evil. Evil is inside all of you. All of you have bad thoughts at some time. Sometimes, when you face a choice, your good nature has to battle with evil thoughts. A person can decide that being evil is easier, though not every person can make this decision, of course. Not every person is able to kill, for example. And then there are people who are very evil from the start, though they can choose, too, and decide to become good people. But when someone becomes very evil, when people start doing things that put _the Purpose _in danger, we can act to guide you and protect it.

"And 'how?' will you ask. Well, we have some ... powers, or abilities. The most important of them is, of course, our knowledge. We know everything that has happened, and we can predict accurately any event that is not influenced by a being with soul. Only beings with souls can really make choices. A dog cannot make choices. A cat cannot make choices. It may seem that they can, but they cannot. We can predict what you will do, the different paths you can choose, and so we are alerted when someone can put this world in danger. And then we can act to fight that danger."

"How?" asked Harry, who seemed very impatient. Hermione looked at Ron, and saw that he was completely focused on Omega. And Hermione looked at him, too, when he started to talk to answer Harry's question.

"Guiding you," Omega responded. "When a great evil awakens, usually good people stand up to it. Our mission is to protect _The Purpose_, so we do our part to help. But, as you know, nothing is free. The nature of a person, their soul and their mind are not the same thing. A soul is given a nature before it joins the body, that union is what defines a person. Then, this person is born, and is influenced, and is educated. But the nature plays an essential role. You can educate two people the same way and they can end up being completely different.

"Sometimes, with certain souls, we can choose the nature of a person. And when we do this, we call this nature 'the Path'."

"'The Path'," asked Hermione, and glanced at Ron, who had narrowed his eyes.

_Loving her is part of your Path, Ronald ..._

"The Path," repeated Omega. "A Path is the same: the nature of a person, what defines what they like, what they love, what they dislike and how they act. But a path also contains our _intention_ for that person, what we want that person to be and to do. What does this mean? It is not something written on stone. It means than your nature, your personality, will impulse you to make the choices that will allow you to do what we need you to do.

"Of course, as I have said, we cannot draw a path for everyone. Some souls never accept it. Why? It depends on the soul. A soul, on its own accord, contains the basic notions of good and evil. We can only draw a path for those souls that are predisposed to good and that have a great capacity to love."

"You are telling us that you can make people that suit your needs?" asked Ginny, who seemed horrified by the idea.

"Not exactly," said Omega. "A lot of things have influence over the nature of a person. But, to certain point, yes, we can.

"Then, we have what you would call 'whispering'," continued Omega. "All of you have heard that voice inside your head who tells you things, have you not? Sometimes, things you do not want to hear. Well, usually, that voice is what you call 'conscience', which is nothing else but the voice of your nature, or your path. The voice that tells you what you should do. But sometimes, it is our voice. We can speak to you, and this is something we can do regardless of whether you are the kind of person who could have received a path or not.

"This 'whispering' can help you choose the right decision, or remember things you have almost forgotten, or think about things you have overlooked. But we cannot use it to tell you things you know nothing about, or to help you realise things you would never have realised on your own. And we cannot lie. We can never lie, so, if we tell something to you through this whispering, it cannot be a lie."

"Why can't you lie?" asked Harry. "Everyone can."

"We are not human beings," said Omega. "Our job would be very easy if we could use lies to influence you. And 'easy' goes against the principles of the Purpose, therefore, we cannot lie."

"Have you used that 'whispering' thing with us?" asked Ginny, frowning.

"Of course. Why do you think you are here, Ginny Weasley? The thought _'run after Ron and beg him once more to stay_' was not yours." Ginny stared at him, open-mouthed, but Omega was now looking at Hermione and said, "'_What are you doing? Follow him! At least say goodbye to him properly!'_" Hermione opened her eyes, frozen on the spot, unable to believe what she was hearing. Then, Omega looked at Harry and added, "_'Go! Go and beg him, crawl if you have to, but try to get him to stay!'_"

None of the three were able to say anything, shocked as they were.

"We put these ideas in your minds because we wanted you three to be here. They're just ideas, however. You chose to come. You could have stayed in the Great Hall. However, you already wanted to come. We just pushed you a bit."

Hermione stared at Omega, astonished. Now he was no longer sure about whether she wanted to keep hearing.

"Then, there are dreams, of course," Omega continued. "We can make you dream about things. And lastly there's another ability, our last resort. But we shall talk about it later."

"And prophecies?" Harry asked suddenly. "If you can predict the future —"

"The possible futures," clarified Omega.

"Yeah, I get it," Harry said. "Are you who make them?"

"We are, to some point," Omega said. "Sometimes, our usual means are not enough. But we usually cannot talk to you directly. A prophecy gives you some information, or some guidance. We cannot whisper to you things you cannot know or discover by yourselves. But seers, through magic, can ... perceive our thoughts. A prophecy is the result of that. But a prophecy has no power by itself. It is just the most probable outcome of something that will happen, of something that is in our schemes, the best path toward the Purpose."

"And why can't you speak to people?" Ginny wanted to know. "You're doing exactly that now."

"Only in very special occasions can we talk to people," Omega explained. "It is not a decision. We do not have Free Will like you. We cannot work against the Purpose. We cannot choose to speak to you to make our job easier. We only do it when it is absolutely necessary. As you say, desperate times require desperate measures."

"And now is necessary, then?" Ginny asked.

"It is. You will understand in due course."

Hermione's attention was drawn to Harry, who looked thoughtful and serious.

"So, when I heard Professor Trelawney predicting Voldemort's return, it was your doing?" He asked. He seemed not to have heard Ginny and Omega's talk.

"We wanted you to know that, yes."

"So you predicted Voldemort's return," said Harry, who now seemed angry. "Can you tell me how the return of Voldemort can help that purpose you so often mention?"

"Voldemort's return, by itself, of course would not favour _The Purpose_. But his defeat would, and, to be defeated, he would have to return. Besides, even wars and terrible events can help you get closer to _The Purpose_. Bad situations often bring out the best of some people. It was like that during the first war, and so is it now. Neville, Luna, Parvati, Lavender, Seamus, the Order, the four of you ... I will explain that prophecy later, Harry Potter, but let me repeat that we did not make him return. The prophecy just stated something that was going to happen."

Hermione stared at Harry. He was silent, and seemed to be deep in thought again.

"But people died," interjected then Ginny. "How can that be a good thing?"

"You have an expression, 'no pain, no gain'. It applies perfectly here. You must understand that we do not care about specific people. We care about the human kind, as a whole, and about the world you can build. Some people have to die for this world to be better. You understand this, because you were ready to die for what is good, were ready to fight for justice, to save other people. Voldemort was a terrible force of evil. To say the truth, he was the worst and most powerful force of evil that has ever existed. But after him, the world was going to be better. The world would be a better place! Think! You, who survived the war, will not love life more? Will you not want to enjoy life, and to be sure that no one has to experience what you did? The world is now better than before Voldemort threatened it. After Voldemort, the world is closer to _the Purpose_."

"And what ab—" Harry tried to ask, but Omega interrupted him.

"I know what you want to speak about. We shall talk about that later."

Harry seemed to want to insist, but finally closed his mouth and listened to Omega.

"Before I say anything more, you must understand that love is the force that drives _the Purpose_, love is the heart of what is good. And therefore, love is our main weapon against those who seek to destroy it. Love is, as Ronald told you, the key point. Love is what allows us to influence and guide people. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," Hermione and Ginny answered. Omega nodded and started talking again.

"But his worst enemy is not simply hate, as you may think. It is selfishness the worst enemy of the Purpose."

"Selfishness?" said Hermione.

"Selfish people only care about them. Selfish people like the Death Eaters wanted the world only for them. Selfish people cared only about themselves under this regime. The Purpose is about love, about making a better world for everyone, not only oneself. Selfishness is the contrary to that. Do you understand?" he asked, and they nodded. "Well, now that you comprehend that, I have to tell you a story, a story that will lead to the reason why I am here."

Omega made a brief pause, and then started talking again.

"In the autumn of 1926, a witch called Merope Gaunt was in London, pregnant, alone and almost without any money. Her unborn child had, already, everything in him to be a powerful dark wizard, his nature was dark, his power, immense. But he had still a chance. Her lonely, depressed mother had to make a choice. She had to choose between an easy death and a hard and painful life; between the blissfulness of death and the difficulty of living for her son; between selfless love and selfishness. And on that year's New Year's Eve, once she had given birth to her child, she made her choice ... and died.

"Things would have been different had she been braver for her son and had lived for him. But she didn't, and Tom Riddle grew up without love, and without wanting it, as you very well know. Tom Riddle had not a path given to him by us, because he was as impermeable to love as dragon skin is to Muggle bullets. Her mother, who was his only hope, chose to die instead giving him the love that could have saved him. There was no love at all in him. However, that fact did not give him more freedom, because it is the ability to make choices what Free Will is about, and he never made any. He never put a foot out of his path, even if that path was not drawn by us, but by himself, his beliefs and his distorted idea of greatness. He discovered that he was Slytherin's heir; that he was powerful; that he could be feared ... And never, for a single moment, thought about changing his life, about changing what he believed was his destiny.

"We have the ability to see every possible outcome of any choice you make, as you know, and we saw that he was too powerful, too terrible. We had no power over him and he had started making horcruxes, becoming immortal ... We needed something to stop him, to beat him, something — or rather, someone — that could defeat him and make this world a better one, because he was a threat like no other the world had ever known."

Omega stopped talking. Hermione tore her eyes away from him and looked at Harry again, who was mesmerised, his eyes fixed on Omega, like Ginny's. Ron's face was, however, expressionless.

"Years went by, and he became more and more powerful, more and more dangerous. He had to be stopped. And it is at this time when your parents appear in the story," Omega continued, "the Weasleys, the Grangers and, above all, the Potters."

"What had my parents to do with all this?" asked Hermione, frowning. "They're Muggles!"

"This is not about Magic, Hermione, but about love. Your parents, the six of them, had two things in common: great love and high moral standards. Your parents, Hermione, raised you in a home full of love, as did Ronald's. The ability to love you three have is so powerful, so uncommon, that makes you three almost unique. It is your nature, what sets you three apart. Love was the key in defeating Voldemort.

"You cannot understand the way we make plans, the way we see how past, present and possible futures intertwine themselves. As I have told you, it is beyond your comprehension, because your mind does not work the way ours do. The Potters were the perfect, or even the only family that could have the child that could stop Voldemort. They were so full of love! Especially your mother, you wonderful mother, that was so special that a Death Eater was in love with her. You three had so wonderful souls! So we chose you and gave you your paths, and when you were conceived, Harry, everything was ready. You would need something to be able to accomplish what you were _intended_ to accomplish. You needed a protection, the powerful Magic only a sacrifice of love could give ... and so, during a snowy winter night in 1980, when your mother was already pregnant, our scheme was prepared and Dumbledore heard the Prophecy that would trigger the events you very well know."

Omega fell silent. Hermione was open-mouthed, her body shaking. She looked at Harry, and saw him shaking, his fists clenched, in rage and anger.

"Harry ..." she uttered, not knowing what more to say.

"Come on, Harry, say what you are thinking," Omega told him. "This was what you wanted to speak about when you started talking about prophecies," he added.

"It was you. You made him go after my parents, you made him _hunt_ them," Harry hissed with barely controlled anger. "YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!" he finally yelled, advancing towards Omega.

"You cannot harm me," Omega said calmly, "so abandon that idea of punching me."

"You took them from me. You — you've played with my life. You — you —" Harry's voice faded, and he shook his head, full of rage, but clearly not knowing what to say.

"Can I resume the story?" Omega asked.

"No," answered Harry, shaking his head. "No, I don't want to hear anything more. It's enough ... More than enough."

"I told you you would have to make a choice, Harry. This is the moment. You can leave, or you can stay. I am fairly sure of what one you will choose," Omega declared, and Harry scowled at him. "I know that you will stay, because it is not enough. There is still much more. You have always keen to know the truth, Harry, whether it was a good thing or a bad one. Well, I am offering it to you. The whole truth. Will you not hear it?"

Harry glared at Omega, scowling, and Hermione knew that inwards, his desire to know and his fear of what he could hear were battling. But she was sure, too, that Omega was right and that Harry would stay.

"Continue, then," he said after a while, and looked away, towards the frozen waters of the lake.

"We did not kill your parents, but they were intended to die. Nothing is free in this Universe, Harry; everything has a price. For you to have the power to vanquish him, your mother had to die. But, as always, there was a choice. You can be intended to help _The Purpose_, but, to do so, you have to _choose_ to do so.

"For you to have the power you would need, Voldemort had to attack you, and love should protect you. The prophecy had two purposes: giving Dumbledore a guide of what to expect and what to do, and making Lord Voldemort go after you. It worked as expected. When Lord Voldemort was informed of what Snape had heard, he acted as we expected him to do. As I have already told you, he never chose, and so he did not this time either. He believed himself the most powerful, the greatest wizard ever, so he went straight after the boy who was more like him to his eyes. And that was you, Harry. Half-blood, descended from an old pureblood family and a Muggle one, just like him. He sought you for a long time, until, thanks to betrayal, he finally found your whereabouts. But, at the same time, Lily Potter was protected due to Snape's love, because he had asked his Master to spare her life. And it is, at this point, when we face again the choice of a mother. To live or to die, to protect you or to stand aside ... And this time, the mother made the right choice. She chose to die, but, as opposed to Merope's death, which had been a selfish act, Lily's was a selfless one. She sacrificed herself, and in doing so she protected you, and Voldemort was vanquished, albeit only temporarily.

"And you received your weapons, Harry, to be able to face him again someday. A connection was forged between you and him, and some of his powers were transferred to you. Your parents' deaths, your mother's sacrifice, were for the better, Harry, for a better world, and not just for what it meant by themselves, but for how much people were inspired by them. You saw it with your own eyes, Harry: the statue and the sign, there in Godric's Hollow. And it had been not a wand, but something as simple and wonderful as a mother's love, what had stopped the most powerful Dark wizard ever."

Harry was shaking again, looking at the snow. Ginny was gazing at him, a lonely tear running down her face, and it seemed that she wanted to go near him and hug him, but she was refraining. Hermione noticed that she, too, was crying, and she wiped her tears slowly.

"It is not fair," Harry muttered angrily. "They didn't deserve to die! And my childhood, at the Dursleys' ..."

"They did not deserve to die, that is true, but they did. For _you_," Omega said. "You were left with a family that did not love you, that's true, but that fact, Harry Potter, shows how different you are from him. Tom Riddle grew up loveless, even though nobody hated him — at least, not at the beginning. He was conceived in loveless family, a family brought together by tricks and deception. But you, although you grew up mistreated and unwanted, are still full of love. Your parents left that to you, Harry. That is your true heritage: the value of loyalty, friendship and love. Your ability to love, the ability to love you three had, has a lot to do with the love your parents share."

"I don't yet understand why you are telling us this," piped up Ron, staring at Omega. He seemed not to be affected by the story at all. But, why would he? He could not care, after all.

"You will do, in due course," replied Omega. "As I have said before, you two —" he pointed at Hermione and Ron, "— were raised in homes full of love. And though you did not —" he pointed at Harry, "— you had still the mark your parents' love had left in you. And ten years later, you three met in the Hogwarts Express in your very first ride to Hogwarts, and eventually became friends. As the years passed, the tests you had to face together drew you even closer, made your bond stronger and prepared you to face the most demanding and challenging task anyone has had to endure. You soon proved to one another that you were ready and willing to risk everything for the others. Together, you were incredible. And Dumbledore, who had heard the prophecy, knew this, and knew that love was the key, and that you three were full of it, were perfect together. That is the reason why he tested you so thoroughly in your first year."

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Dumbledore didn't test us."

"He did," Omega replied. "He watched Harry very carefully during that year, and, after the troll incident, he understood perfectly what was happening, what you three were, something that the other teachers missed. He set up a good test to know for sure what you were capable of, and, at the same time, to prepare you."

"The protections guarding the Philosopher's Stone," muttered Ron. "They weren't to protect it."

"Of course not," Omega said. "You three are extraordinary, but you were eleven years old and passed through them. No Dark wizard would have been stopped by them. Dumbledore could have protected the stone by keeping it with him, or simply by using the Mirror of Erised. That was the perfect protection. Did you not find strange that the tests you found were so well suited for you three?" Omega asked. "The chessboard, the flying keys, the potions riddle ... Each of them was perfect for one of you. And then there were the Devil's Snare and the trolls, which required a more coordinated team work."

"That's insane," Hermione said, shaking her head. "We were just twelve, Ron and me, and Harry was eleven!"

"And, even so, you succeeded. With bravery, knowledge, skill, and, above all, determination, sacrifice and friendship. Dumbledore was right. You became even stronger after that. You three meant hope to him. I have told you, you three were the _Chosen Ones_, not just Harry. Harry was mentioned in the Prophecy, but it was, always, you three. He could have not achieved anything without you two," he added, looking at Ron and Hermione. "It was our intention for you, it was in your nature, in your paths, that you would grow up and face Voldemort. But you had to choose, did you not? And you three did: that night, when you decided to go and protect the Stone, the three of you made your choice.

"Could you have done otherwise? Of course. It was unlikely, but could have happened. Voldemort wouldn't have got the Stone that night, but eventually, he would have returned ... though, in this case, probably you three wouldn't have been ready to face him."

Omega turned round and looked at the castle before continuing.

"The years went by in this castle, and you faced increasingly hard difficulties. And as you did so, you got ever stronger, ever more united. And it was necessary, because we knew that Voldemort was about to come back in your fourth year."

"How?" asked Harry, frowning. "How did you know that? You can't predict which choice a person will choose, can you? That's what you told us. So how did you know he was going to come back, then?"

Omega stared at Harry. "As you say, we cannot foresee what a person will do when faced with a choice. But you must understand that some choices are made long before people encounters them."

"What do you mean?"

"When the moment came, Harry Potter, at the start of your third year, when Sirius Black discovered the whereabouts of Peter Pettigrew, all choices were already made. Do you think that Pettigrew decided to go back to Voldemort the night he escaped?" he asked. "He did not. He had chosen to be a coward, he had chosen to stick by — in his opinion — the most powerful wizard, so, when he was discovered, he did the only thing he could, based on his choices: go back to him. And Bartemius Crouch Jr did exactly the same. He did not choose to help Voldemort when he went to Crouch's house to rescue him. That decision had been made long ago. Therefore, when Sirius escaped, everything was settled. It could have happened in a slightly different way, of course, but it would have happened nonetheless. The prophecy you heard, Harry, that afternoon in Trelawney's class was just a clue for you. The choices had been made, all of them: you and Ron and Hermione had decided, long ago, to help and support Hagrid; Pettigrew had decided to be a coward and traitor; Snape had decided to never forget or forgive, and, above all, you had decided, albeit not consciously, that you were not a murderer. Pettigrew was bound to escape, and, by doing so, to help Voldemort come back."

"So we couldn't have stopped Voldemort's return?" asked Hermione.

"You _could_," said Omega. "Remember the dark zone, Harry. You could have done anything. And there were some ways, of course, without deviating from your path, but that required more knowledge than what you had. So we can say that, to all purposes, you could not. And not due to destiny, but due to the choices people had made. As I have told you, there is no destiny. If there are unavoidable events in the future they are always caused by choices."

Omega fell silent for a moment, letting them assimilate and understand what he had told them.

"So Voldemort came back. You fought him and his Death Eaters. You had been very well trained, and the intention was that you would complete your seven years at Hogwarts, receive the information you needed from Dumbledore and then would go and fight him, and, most likely, defeat him."

"The intention was," Ron repeated.

"That is what I have said," Omega nodded. "Voldemort was the most terrible force of evil that has ever existed. But his lack of choices and this terrible mistakes (like using Harry's blood to come back), would have permitted you to defeat him in due course. The war was going to be nasty and awful, but, in the end, it was very likely that he would be vanquished, and you three — or four, I should say — would change the world for the better. Defeating Voldemort was only one of the great things you were meant to accomplish."

"But?" Hermione asked, sensing that something had failed in that plan. After all, things hadn't turned out that way.

"Dumbledore was very old," Omega said. "It was likely that he would not survive to see the end of the war. The plan was that, when the moment came, he would let himself die naturally, so nobody could beat him and take possession of the Elder Wand, because he knew that, sooner or later, Voldemort would find out about it."

"His plan, or yours?" asked Ron shrewdly.

"Both," said Omega unashamedly. "We put that idea in his head, of course, through our whispering, but it was something he was already aware of. The idea was ours, but it was him who made the choice," Omega explained. "Well, as I was saying, he was going to die, but before that we wanted — needed — him to teach Harry what he needed to know during his sixth and seventh years here. That was the plan, it had always been the plan, the most likely outcome of this story since that day the prophecy had been made. But in the summer of 1996, Dumbledore went to the ruins of the shack where the Gaunts had once lived, suspecting that one of the horcruxes was hidden there. Effectively, as you know, there was one, the ring, which he discovered." Omega paused for a moment and looked intensely at them. "But then something happened, something we had not foreseen, because the choice that caused it was one of those unlikely ones hidden in the dark zone. Dumbledore acted like a fool, in a way totally contrary to his nature, when he saw the symbol of the Deathly Hallows engraved in the stone. He understood what it was at once, and, despite he knew that the ring must carry a curse, he was overwhelmed by the idea that, after so long, he had the Resurrection Stone in his hands and he could, at long last, talk to his lost family. And so, without thinking, he made the worst choice of his life, and put the ring on his finger."

Ginny, who had never heard this story, was gaping at Omega. Harry, on the other hand, had a sad expression on his face, and Hermione knew that he understood perfectly well why Dumbledore had succumbed to temptation, just like he had done.

She looked at Omega again, and wondered about Dumbledore's reasons for doing such a foolish thing. Omega had said that he, Dumbledore, wanted to talk to his family. Was then true what Rita Skeeter had written about Ariana, Dumbledore's little sister?

"You know very well that the ring carried a curse that would have killed anyone. Dumbledore, thanks to his prodigious magical skill and Snape's help, survived ... but he was doomed. The curse in his hand could only be contained, not stopped or undone. From that moment on, Dumbledore had only a year before passing away. That was going to happen before you three were completely ready. And so, our vision of the future changed dramatically. For the first time in history, we saw that the absolute and complete ruin of _the Purpose_ was not only possible, but the most likely outcome of what was happening.

"You have seen what Voldemort did here during these months, but that was just the beginning. We saw Voldemort conquering every Wizarding country, subjugating the Muggles and every other creature; we saw him as possessor and true master of the Elder Wand, unbeatable and immortal; we saw millions of deaths, terrible pain and absolute unhappiness ... We saw, in short, _the Purpose_ drowning in a world of darkness and despair."

Omega fell silent and Hermione stared at him in awe, seeing in her mind the apocalyptic vision Omega had described. Ginny seemed dumbfounded and Harry was blinking rapidly, as though he was trying to assimilate what he had heard. Ron, however, remained expressionless.

"But — but —" stuttered Harry, glancing quickly at Ron before addressing Omega again, "Ron told me that I had a possibility, that I could survive —"

"And you could," confirmed Omega, fixating his black eyes on him. "I said that Voldemort's victory was more probable, not that it was inevitable. Dumbledore confided in you, Harry, but he left a lot of things to chance ... the outcome depended on a few choices, and most of them were not yours. The possibility of finding the horcruxes was small, and the longer it took for you to complete that mission, more likely it was that he would discover the secret of the Elder Wand. Then Voldemort would have ended up killing Severus Snape — and eventually, Draco Malfoy — and you would never know the truth.

"You realised, during those past months, that there is a difference between having a reason to die for, and having a reason to live for. During those past months, Harry, you had a reason to die for. But not a reason to live. Ronald told you that your survival was a matter of will and circumstances. Well, you did not have the will. Had Voldemort cursed you, you would not have survived. Before what happened last June, your reasons to live were — and are — these three people," he explained, pointing at Ron, Hermione and Ginny. "There were a lot of possibilities, Harry, and in most of them they die before you. Your death would only become a sacrifice if you wanted to die willingly, without fighting. But it was very unlikely that you discovered what you had to do before Snape's death."

Harry looked at the ground, shocked and shaken.

"Dumbledore was a very intelligent person, but he could make great mistakes, too. Finding the horcruxes was much harder than what he had supposed. Besides, the fact that his last plan to protect the Elder Wand had failed made everything worse. And, finally, he trusted the most important secret to the man you believed was a traitor and a murderer.

"Given the state of thinks, we had to do something," Omega continued. "We do not have Free Will like you do, we do not decide, not exactly. This was the greatest threat ever to the Purpose, so, for the second time in history, we had to intervene directly."

"For the second time," Ron commented.

"For the second time," nodded Omega, looking at him. "Intervening directly would facilitate _the Purpose_ in a certain sense, but then constructing, building it, would not be so hard for you, and therefore _the Purpose _would not be _the Purpose_ at all. That is why usually we just influence you, or, in certain cases, your Seers are able to see what we see and make prophecies. But when not even this is enough, we can take desperate measures and intervene directly. But even in those cases, only very special people can perceive us."

"Very special people?" asked Ginny.

"People with a great role in the path towards_ The Purpose_," explained Omega before continuing. "I have told you before that I appeared amongst my equals when the first magical beings appeared in the world."

"But you didn't create Magic, did you?" asked Hermione.

"We did not. Magic is as ancient as the Universe, part of it. And the ability to use it is a gift for you, a tool for _the Purpose_.

"At some point in history, people with the power and the ability to use Magic began to appear, but no one of them knew how to use their new abilities. Some of them did not even know what they could do. Magic was needed to reach _the Purpose_, and so I had to intervene. We searched for a wizard or a witch capable of doing what we need them to do, which was, of course, getting a Source, so they would have the needed knowledge to teach others. We tried some of them, but with no use. Several people started the Journey, but some of them gave up, and others died during the worst part. Finally, after decades of failed attempts, we contacted a Greek wizard, and, together, he and I made the same journey you and I did, Ronald. Of course, he was slower, because he did not have the same control over his powers you had, he knew nothing about magic. However, he learnt how to use his raw magic, just like you, and finally, he reached the Cave of Old Magic and there he planted the Oak tree I had ordered him to carry. It took him a year to complete the Journey and get his Source — one weaker than yours — but it gave him the power and the knowledge he needed. He invented the first spells, and, when the oak tree grew, he fashioned the first magical wand from it. After that he returned, sought other people with powers out and taught them how to use them. During the year he lived after getting the Source, he thought others how to use magic, and then sent them all around the world. History of Magic begins with him."

"I had never heard this," Hermione commented.

"Nobody knows about it," said Omega. "As it must be. Humans should not know about the Source."

"But you explained it to him, and to me," replied Ron.

"Because it is a tool, but just for extreme cases," answered Omega. "We needed him to teach others the secrets of Magic. And in your case ... I have told you what we had seen. We had to do something. The Source was the only thing powerful enough to stop Voldemort."

"Why did that wizard lived for just for a year after getting that Source?" asked Ginny, who seemed a bit worried, and threw a glance at Ron. "It doesn't kill you, does it?"

"The Source can make a person virtually immortal," said Omega. "He lived only one more year because that is what he sacrificed to get the Source: the rest of his life. Life and love are the only sacrifices powerful enough to create it. But life is not unlimited, and so, using his powers consumed his time in this world. You know how to use your powers because that man sacrificed his life."

"And he was weaker than I am?" asked Ron, narrowing his eyes.

"Love is much stronger and valuable than life, Ronald. People are ready to die for love. Your ability to love is what makes your Source so incredibly powerful. I told you that the ability to love you three have is almost unique."

"So that's why you chose me," Ron said.

Omega looked at Ron intensely. "There was no choice," he said. "It had to be you."

"Why?" asked Hermione, who wanted more than anything else to understand why had this people chosen Ron, turning him into a person unable to love.

"The way we make our plans, our schemes, cannot be fully understood by you. That is something I have already explained," he declared. "Dumbledore was going to die. That changed a lot of things, but not the essential point: the solution was between you three. And, amongst you, only Ronald had — or could have — what was needed to get the Source."

"Explain that," Ron demanded.

"Do you understand the power of an untarnished soul?" Omega asked. "Ronald is a good proof of that. That is something Voldemort never understood. The power of an untarnished soul, of a soul that is whole, is incomparable. A soul can be separated, and yet each piece maintains its capabilities, and can feel, and act ... but with one limitation, something he never valued: only a soul that is whole can create — and stand — love."

"Do you mean that people who murder cannot feel love?" asked Hermione, confused. "Committing murder is what rips the soul apart, isn't it?"

"It is," said Omega. "The murder of a creature with a soul is an irreparable act, it cannot be undone. That rips the soul apart, but bear in mind that souls are not physical things. While the soul is still inside the body to which it is joined, it remains connected to the other pieces, so, to all purposes, it is still whole, though it is true that murderers can never love like normal people do." Omega stared at Hermione. "But I am glad you brought up this topic. You have read about horcruxes, Hermione. You can explain them. Tell us how to make one."

"No," said Hermione, shaking her head. "No, it's too horrible."

"It is important," Omega said.

Hermione hesitated, but, finally, gulped, looked at the ground and started to talk.

"You have to kill another person," she said. "It must be a murder, not just any killing. You must enjoy it, relish in the act of taking another person's life. Then you select something, something which does not have a soul. You can only turn a being with a soul into a horcrux if the — the _host _accepts it." Hermione made a pause and breathed deeply before continuing, still looking at the grounds, aware that everyone was staring at her. "There is a spell, a really complicated spell that has two parts. You have to focus on the person you killed, on the _pleasure_ of — of killing them while you say the first part of the spell; you must — must feel the joy of doing such a horrible thing. When the first part of the spell is done, you must focus on the container, on the object or creature that will become the horcrux. Then you say the incantation and — and the piece of soul is transferred to — to it. It's very painful, and nasty. It's — it's —" Hermione fell silent, too horrified to continue.

"Exactly," said Omega. Hermione raised her head slowly, and saw that Harry and Ginny were looking at her, both pale and looking revolted. Ron, however, looked perfectly fine. Surely he knew how horcruxes were made. "But there is more to it," Omega continued. "There is another way to divide a soul, though, but we shall talk about that later. Now tell us, Hermione. What does the second part of the spell?"

"It — it creates a new mind for the horcrux," Hermione explained. "It takes the mind of the caster and _duplicates_ it, so the soul can think and act."

"What!" Harry asked. "Duplicate a mind? But — why?"

"A soul, alone, contains only nature and instincts, but cannot think," Omega explained. "A horcrux needs a mind so that it can think and defend itself. It works both ways, you know, because a mind like yours cannot exist without a soul."

"What has this have to do with me?" asked Ron, who seemed to be getting impatient.

"A person is defined by a soul and its innate nature," Omega said, apparently ignoring Ron's question. "Not by one or the other, but by the two of them combined. This nature is affected by experience and education. Your souls without your natures wouldn't be you at all, and a nature without a soul cannot exist.

"When a soul encounters another with whom it has some affinity according to its nature, love surges. This affinity can vary. Sometimes, a person falls in love with someone who is very similar to them; other times, they fall in love with people that are completely opposite. Sometimes it happens immediately, other times it takes its time. But it is your natures which decide who you can love. Some people can fall in love multiple times. Other people find someone with such strong affinity that the soul cannot really replace them. Others never find anybody, so never fall in love."

He fell silent and looked at them all.

"You became friends that day, on Halloween," Omega said, changing the subject abruptly and resuming his story. "As years passed and your friendship grew stronger, other feelings began to grow too. I am referring, or course, to the love between you two, Ronald and Hermione, and you, Harry and Ginevra." He looked at them all in turns. Hermione couldn't help glancing at Ron, and she saw Harry and Ginny exchanging a furtive look, both of them a bit embarrassed. Only Ron kept staring at Omega. "The four of you were meant to be, since the very beginning, especially Ron and Hermione. It was right there since the first day, when you saw each other for the first time in the Hogwarts Express. You did not fall in love then, of course, you were too young, but it was already there, _something_. It was this thing between you two, this thing that would end up being love, something extraordinarily special. It was that what drew you three together, because you had the ability to get under each other's skin, and that was, after all, what caused the troll incident that was the origin of your friendship. You are perfect for each other, exactly what the other needs. It was inevitable that you would fall in love."

"But you said that nothing is inevitable," said Hermione, with sadness.

"You chose to come to Hogwarts," said Omega. "You could have decided not to come, though that was so unlikely it could be ignored. But after seeing each other, after Ronald and Harry decided to help you when the troll was released, it was inevitable. You do not choose who you love. You were meant to be, in the most complete way this can happen. I have explained that it is your nature, your path, what indicates what kind of person you love, or like. Due to your paths — which is to say, your nature — you were drawn to each other. Of course, if you had never met, you could have loved other people, but never the same way you loved each other. You are meant to be, you are each other's soul mate, the love you feel for the other is complete and affects each and every aspect of your lives, complementing them. After being together, you could never find happiness or love with another person, because nobody else can understand and complement you the same way the other does. What you have is a rare gift, something almost unique, something so wonderful and strong and intense that can never be destroyed.

"But you already know this. Because when you feel something like this and you think you have lost it forever, you simply know. Your soul knows. It is like losing part of you. That hole in the chest Ron felt, that hole Hermione feels right now, is the definitive proof."

"I'm sorry to tell you this," replied Hermione, almost crying, because what Omega was telling sounded so right, and yet it could not be true, "but I fell in love with Harry. What we had was destroyed."

"The relationship was destroyed," said Omega. "But not the love, as you very well know."

"But if —" tried to insist Hermione, but Omega didn't let her finish.

"You want to know why we 'chose' you," he said, looking at Ron. "I have told you that there was no choice, because you were the only one who had, or could have, what was needed. It was, of course, something powerful enough to sacrifice, and the will, the desire, to sacrifice it," he explained. "I have told how unique what you had was. You do not understand how fortunate you are. Having a person that is meant to be with you is a rare gift. Human people abuses the term 'meant to be'. Only a path can made two people meant to be, or fated, if you prefer that word. There are people who find a 'perfect person', but in this case is just the best for them. When you have someone that is meant to be with you, _really_ meant to be, it is not the best, it is perfect. The love two people meant to be share is something really unique, beautiful and powerful. The four of you have it, a reminder of what is good, a reason to keep fighting during the bad times, something worth living — and dying — for. In your case, Ronald and Hermione, your friendship, everything you lived together, made it even stronger, even more special and absolutely unique. It was, therefore, the perfect feeling to feed the Source. That love would give you, Ronald, enough power to vanquish Lord Voldemort without any problem and to save the future — as it indeed has happened. But to be able to use it, you had to get together before. The problem was that being meant to be does not necessarily make things easy. You both had issues to solve, issues that would be solved before Dumbledore's dead, according to the original plan. Then, you three, and Harry being together with Ginny, would most likely win, because that love, that thing worth living and dying for is something Voldemort cannot match, if you were ready.

"But after Dumbledore's mistake, we knew that you wouldn't be together in time. It was ... too soon."

"What?" Hermione said. "We got together during Slughorn's Christmas Party!"

"You did," Omega said. "But our _intention _for you was not that. You were not completely ready. There were issues to face, and insecurities to overcome. You had asked him to go to the party, but something was going to happen that would prevent you from being together."

"What do you mean?"

"It is not important, but, if you want to know ... There was going to be an argument between Ronald and Ginny, a fight that would prevent you from going together."

"WHAT!" Ginny asked, outraged. "How could I prevent them from being together?"

"You were going out with Dean Thomas," explained Omega. "It could have happened at different times, but, to sum it up, Ronald was going to catch you snogging Dean. That would lead to an argument, and you would reveal that both Harry and Hermione had already kissed someone, Cho Chang and Viktor Krum, respectively, and that Ronald was the only one without any experience."

Hermione let out a moan and looked at Ginny, who put on an apologetic face, which was a bit odd, because, technically, Ginny had not done anything.

"But that is not important," insisted Omega. "We stopped that. We can't change your mind when you have made it up. They had decided to snog, but not _where_, so we _suggested_ them to go to a place where Ron was not going to find them. This is relatively easy," continued Omega, "because usually, when you simply walk, do not know where you are heading for, or maybe you have decided where you are heading for, but not which way you are going to take. That is how we make you find Riddle's diary. Using this, is how we made Cornelius Fudge go to Azkaban the same day that photograph of the Weasley family appeared on the Prophet. He had to go, but had not decided when. We decided for him, and he just went along with our ... _idea_. However, when someone is determined, we cannot do this.

"In the original plan, this was needed, for you both, for the path that would lead you to being together. But now it was better for us this way. You got together, because the love and the tension between you two was already too strong. After going to the party together, there were no more choices. All choices had been taken, you were going to be together before the end of the night. But some issues, some fears, were not faced. Hermione fought Ronald's fears that night, and Ronald fought some of Hermione's. But no one can really fight another person's fears for them. That is a personal battle.

"Of course, you together were completely wonderful. Your time together was the best of your lives. Though it was not as it could have been had you faced your personal issues before, it was incredible for both of you."

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling them moisten. It hurt so much to hear how perfect they had been ...

"And being this way, why did it have to be Ronald? Why not Hermione?" Omega continued. "Well, Ronald has a large family, almost all of them members of the Order, a family for which he feared, a family he desired to protect," he looked at Ron. "But there was this great question, of course: to sacrifice the love you had for Hermione, you had to really want that. And what would make you want to sacrifice that love? What would make you follow me once I had spoken to you about the Source? What would make you want to get rid of the thing you cherished the most?"

And in that instant Hermione understood. In that moment she knew what Omega was going to say. She shuddered, shook her head in denial and gave a step back.

"No," she said, shaking her head more violently. "No ..."

Harry and Ginny looked at her, both with confused looks on their faces, but Hermione didn't pay them any attention, her eyes were fixed upon Omega. He held her gaze and, after a few seconds, spoke again.

"Only the most terrible betrayal, so we arranged everything for it to happen."

Harry wheeled his head towards Omega so fast he could have broken his neck; Ginny did the same, staring at him horror-struck. Even Ron had now a look of disbelief plastered upon his face.

"WHAT?" yelled Harry. "WHAT — WHAT HAVE YOU SAID?"

"You didn't," Hermione said, shaking her head again, trying to hold back the tears which threatened to spill from her eyes. A painful lump had formed in her throat, and her body was trembling. "You didn't."

"We did," Omega assured. "It had to be done. It was the only way."

Harry clenched his firsts tightly. His entire body was shaking due to rage.

"Do you see how we had to change our plans?" Omega asked, ignoring the glares he was receiving. "During all your lives, your paths had drawn you three together. And now we had to work against them, separating you."

"So for you is just a curiosity, isn't it?" Harry said, barely containing his anger. "YOU'RE SPEAKING ABOUT OUR LIVES!" he screamed, his face red with anger. "OUR LIVES! You destroyed our friendship! And Hermione and Ron! What you did to them was — was —" Harry clenched his fists even tighter and shook his head. He seemed to be looking for words terrible enough to describe what these _creatures_ had done.

"Continue," Ron said then. He seemed calm, but it was possible for Hermione to sense the cold fury inside him. "Tell us everything. Tell us now and let's finish this."

"You — you made Harry and m-me f-fall in love?" she asked, shaking.

"We did not," answered Omega. Hermione was now completely confused.

"What? But — then —? We _just _fell in love and you arranged what happened in that corridor?" she asked. Her mind was spinning, and her body was almost numb from the shock.

"You and Harry cannot fall in love," Omega affirmed.

"WHAT?" Harry shouted. "You're not making any sense!"

"You two were meant to have one of the most special friendships ever," Omega explained. "A completely platonic friendship. You can never, ever fall in love. It is impossible."

Hermione didn't understand anything.

"But I —"

"You do not get it?" Omega said, interrupting her. "_You cannot fall in love with Harry!_ The only way you can fall in love with him is if you are not you. And the same goes to him."

"What you say doesn't make any sense!" said Harry. "I remember!"

"Yes, you remember," said Omega. "And how do you remember it, Harry? Like an odd dream? As if you were not yourself?"

Hermione opened her eyes wide and looked at Omega. That was exactly how she remembered everything.

"You are the combination of a soul and a path," said Omega. "But souls, as I have told you, are something extraordinary. The universe has a lot of symmetries. I told you that murder was not the only way to divide a soul."

"What?" Harry asked, his rage now diminished due to confusion. "What are you saying?"

"Souls are meant to have just one nature, that cannot be changed externally," Omega said. "But in some cases, with special souls, like yours, it is possible for us to force another path upon them. The original path cannot be erased, but the new one makes the soul like and love different things. That is the only thing we can redraw. Love is our weapon. So, what happens when person with two paths sees the person the second path is meant to love? The soul cannot follow two paths, so it divides itself, each piece having its own path. Of course, this is not like a horcrux at all. The soul does not rip apart. The soul is still together, not corrupted, and cannot be separated, but acts almost as if there were two of them. This is what we did to you."

"You — you gave us a second path?" asked Hermione.

"We did. A normal, innate path or nature defines a lot of things, affects your whole life. But a second path cannot be that way. We cannot make you lazy with a second path, or make you hate books. This second path only affects love, and yours had only one purpose: love Harry, and love Hermione."

Hermione just could stare at Omega, too shocked by what she was hearing.

"This is our last power, the last ability I told you about before. It is not the first time we have used it, but is dangerous, and hard to use. Our power is not unlimited," Omega explained.

"Stop, stop!" yelled Harry, clenching his fists. "This — this is too much."

"There is still much more to hear," replied Omega, and continued talking, looking at Ron and Hermione. "You do not understand, even now, the strength and power of the bond you two shared. We had to use all our power to force that second nature upon you, and even so, we almost failed. Your original paths, your true ones, made you love each other in a complete, healthy way. That love you felt complemented every aspect of your lives. But this second nature did not have another purpose, another goal than to feel an unnatural and obsessive love and lust.

"It all started by the end of May. It had to be then, before the moment when Harry and Ginny would start their relationship, because otherwise it would be much more difficult; but it could not have happened too soon, because it was essential that you both believed that those new unwanted feelings would vanish, that it was some madness that would not last and would go away.

"We started with you, Hermione. That day, when you saw Harry entering the common room, you had already received your second path. Giving your age, the natural thing happened, and your soul created that new love. But your soul had already one love, one true love, so unable to stand two paths, something unnatural, it divided itself. And you started to feel that love that you found so odd and unwanted, because it was something completely strange to your true natures.

"But of course, you had only one mind. The human mind is not prepared to deal with two natures, with the feelings from two souls. And, if one of these souls is really part of your own, it makes it even worse, because it is already connected to that mind.

"So you started to see Harry in a new light, started feeling and noticing things you had never noticed before. The same happened to Harry the next day. Your minds had to deal, on one hand, with your true feelings towards Ginny and Ron, with your sense of loyalty and friendship, and with the fact that the friendship between you two was completely platonic; and, on the other hand, it had to deal with that new overwhelming and obsessive love. This is enough to drive anyone crazy.

"In one way, it was like being possessed by your own soul. Though is not the same Ginny experienced. The diary was a horcrux, it has its own mind, so Ginny cannot really remember what she was doing. For you, it was different. In your case, you shared the same mind.

"And you almost became insane with the confronted feelings. Your minds could not deal with all that. You felt guilt, of course, especially you, Hermione, hiding the truth. But that part, that part that was not you and loved Harry, did not care about anything else. That part did not care about Ronald, about the war, about studies, about nothing, nothing except being with Harry. That part did not let you feel all the guilt you should or even think straight. It is your mind what lets you make choices. When you have only one nature, you decide between what your nature tells you to do, and other impulses, be it from your body, from your evil instincts, or from your good instincts. But what happens if you have _two_ natures, two paths? How do you know if you are choosing what you want, or what the other part of you wants? A mind can be destroyed by this dichotomy; the battle between the opposite feelings can drive a person mad."

Hermione was trembling from head to toe. She didn't want to believe it, but now that she was hearing it, it had perfect sense. Now it was perfectly clear why she had felt so torn, so divided, as if two parts of her were battling. Now she knew that she had felt that way because that was _exactly_ what had happened: her true nature, that loved Ron, had fought against the _imposed_ one, that loved Harry ... Now she understood why everything that had happened that month seemed an odd dream, because she had not been herself, not really, because these creatures, these Fates, or Protectors, had played with her, with Harry, and with Ron ...

"You — you are despicable," Harry spat, trembling and glaring at Omega. "You had no right! YOU PLAYED WITH US AS THOUGH THIS WAS A GAME! YOU USED US, JUST LIKE YOU'VE BEEN DOING DURING OUR ENTIRE LIVES!"

"You m-made me c-cheat on Ron," Hermione muttered, feeling the tears run down her face freely. "You — you made me b-break his heart so you could manipulate him!"

Omega looked at her. "Not exactly."

"WHAT!" asked Harry, utterly furious. "Now you deny it? You've just said that —"

"What we did made _something_ in you fall in love with Hermione, and something in Hermione fall in love with you," explained Omega. "But you two were extraordinarily resistant. Your true natures fought against those feelings with enormous force. We knew that feeling that obsessive love was not enough. Maintain a second path without the help of the subject is too hard. We needed to increase the tension, so after a while, we started making you dream with each other."

Hermione let out a moan of anguish. "That was your fault?" she asked.

"We had to do it," Omega explained. "Do you understand how hard you fought? Had a person been born with those paths we forced upon you, they would not care about anything else than being together. The world could be crumbling around them and they would not care; their families could be dying beside them and they would not spare a glance at them. Of course, the path is 'educated', and is enriched by experience. But this did not happen to these paths, because they were forced upon you when you both were already grown up. You should have succumbed much sooner. You made us fail. We even had to give some Ministry officials the idea of searching Borgin and Burke's, so Draco had to make a pause; we gave Dumbledore certain pressing matters, so he delayed your travel to get the horcrux. And why? Because you —" he pointed at Hermione, "— kept choosing Ron. Over and over again you avoided Harry, you kissed Ron, you tried to spend time with him. Was that morally wrong? Yes, it was. And yet, this is not about morality, but about feelings, about choosing. You kept choosing Ron, because Ron is the only one that can make you completely happy, the only one that can make you feel complete. When you were with Ron, you felt almost normal, although, of course, your mind was not completely yours. Obsessive feelings are very powerful.

"We knew, of course, that your conscience would be a problem. You would want to tell Ronald the truth, and that would go against our plans, because only the most excruciating pain would make Ronald do something as extreme as sacrificing his ability to feel love. So we whispered to you, we told you that it would go away, that if you resisted, it would disappear.

"And you did that, because you were too afraid, you were not in your right state of mind. You wanted to believe that. As I have told you, we cannot lie. It was the truth, Hermione. Had you resisted, had you waited ... that second nature would have vanished. I told you, we cannot maintain that second nature without help. Our power to force that path upon your soul was not as strong as your love for Ronald. If you had gone home, had passed some weeks without seeing them, and then had seen only Ron for a few days, your soul would have mended itself thanks to its true love and the feelings for Harry would have vanished, no matter how hard we had tried to force them upon you."

Hearing that was like a blow to Hermione. She felt as if someone had punched her.

"The thing is that you kept resisting," Omega continued. "And we were running out of time. We had reached a point where we could not delay Harry and Dumbledore's travel anymore. It was important, very important, that that travel happened shortly after Ronald had discovered you.

"So that day, we whispered to Ron, remembering him that he wanted to write Fred and George and ask them if they could get something from Diagon Alley for you. And when you came back that evening, he said that you should go without him, that he would join you later. And you thought that it would not do any harm. That was the choice, Hermione. That was your mistake. Or, from our point of view, the right thing to do. You told Ginny, once, how much you regretted having gone with Harry to dinner that night. Well, you were right. That choice caused everything."

Hermione felt the tears running down her face, and looked down at the grounds. What she was hearing was too much.

"You believed that those feelings, though unwanted, were yours, and that you could resist. But when you decided to go with him you chose the other path. And when you touched his hand, being alone with him ... you lost control. Your other part was then too strong. You were alone with Harry. After almost four weeks, you were on the verge of insanity."

"So I k-kissed him," Hermione said, sobbing.

"You?" said Omega. "Someone kissed Harry, Hermione, and someone kissed you. You did not want to kiss. It was not you who were causing your mind to lose control with lust and the kind of obsessive love that is so unhealthy. But it was you who realised what you were doing. It was you both who put that expression of horror on your faces when you saw what you were doing. But it was too late. Ron knew which corridors and passageways you were going to use, and he had had the 'idea' of running so that he could catch up with you before you had reached the Great Hall. And he caught you." Omega made a pause and stared at Hermione. "You failed only once. Only once, your second nature won the battle, Hermione. But it was enough."

"Merlin's beard," said Ginny, completely horrified. "Oh, God!"

Hermione didn't know what to say, she was speechless, her body shaking with silent sobs. The way these beings had set up everything ...

"You've been blaming yourself for your weakness," Omega said. "The truth is that you both were too strong. Nobody else would have resisted so long. You were going mad. True brothers and sisters would have succumbed sooner. Nobody can always make the right choices. You are only human, after all.

"It was a bit easier with Harry, because Harry was not going out with Ginny. Harry could not go to Ginny and spend time with her to fight what the other part of his soul was feeling. But you, Ronald and Hermione, the way you feel for each other is too complete, too intense. It almost made our task impossible. Why do you think we had to stop you from making love?" he asked.

"WHAT?" Hermione asked, her eyes the size of saucers. "You — you did WHAT?"

"That evening, when you were alone in Ronald's room, we knew that you were almost ready. It might not have happened that day, but we knew that it would happen soon. And then, then your bond would be too strong. We knew that, if you started having sex, our plans would fail. If you shared that, then it would not matter how strong the path we forced upon you was, you would resist.

"So we suggested to all your classmates to do something that required for them to go to that room. Only Neville followed the suggestion, because he was the only one who had not decided what to do. But even so, you kept trying. You went to that classroom. But we had foreseen that problem, of course. Peeves is a spirit of chaos, it is easy to put ideas on his mind. He dropped a dozen of eggs in another classroom in the sixth floor, so Filch went there with a bucket of water, and he went down the corridor in which you were. Some fourth years that were sneaking out of their common room saw him, and they ... _had_ the wonderful idea of breaking the handle of the bucket with a spell. They hid in a classroom and, when Filch passed them, one of them went along with the deed. After walking a few yards, the handle broke, the bucket dropped onto the floor ... and that stopped you.

"Of course, that was not enough, so we remembered you that you were at Hogwarts, and that the consequences of being caught having sex in a classroom would be severe. And you went back to the common room, thinking that waiting a few more weeks, until the summer, was the best."

Thick tears, of rage, of impotence, were running down Hermione's cheeks. It had been them. They had arranged everything to stop Ron and her from making love, they had caused her soul to divide so that part of her could fall in love with Harry ...

"I don't want to hear anything more!" yelled Hermione, giving a few steps back while she brushed her soaked cheeks, trying to get away from Omega and all the horrible things he was telling them. "I don't want to listen to you saying how you manipulated us, how you destroyed what I had with Ron."

"We did what we had to do," Omega said plainly. "I have told you that individual people is not important to us. We had to protect _The Purpose_."

"You are cruel," Harry said, and Hermione noticed he had tears in his eyes too. "This ... is sick. You could have made Hermione love any person, but you chose _me_, Ron's best friend. It's _sick_! I — I don't want to hear anything more, either."

"Do you not understand?" Omega said. "We did not choose. There was no choice. Not for us. We did not choose Ronald, it had to be him. And we did not choose you as the person with whom Hermione would fall in love. _It had to be you_."

"Why?" asked Harry, yelling. "Why did it have to be me!"

"You can hear a prophecy and ignore it. You have Free Will. But we cannot. We cannot ignore our own plans, our own schemes. We cannot work against a prophecy."

"What does the prophecy have to do with this?" asked Harry, full of rage.

"Everything. The prophecy is fulfilled. Ron told you that. Even after how things changed, it was fulfilled. And the prophecy speaks about you, Harry Potter, about you and love. That is the power Voldemort does not know. And that power is just the people that love you. Your mother, your friends. That could not change. The solution was always there. It was the love Ron felt for you and Hermione, the love that feeds the Source. Love, the key point in vanquishing Voldemort.

"It had to be you, Harry Potter. Do you know how extreme what Ron did was? Do you understand the kind of pain you must feel to decide to give up your ability to love? Hermione falling in love with another person was not enough. It had to be a betrayal. And to make it unbearable, to make sure he could not stand it, it had to be you, his best friend, his brother, the one Hermione had sworn did not love.

"The kind of love Ronald and Hermione experienced is extraordinary. It affects, as I have already told you, your entire lives. It complements and enriches every aspect in them. But such a wonderful love can also provoke a terrible pain when betrayed, when destroyed in an unnatural way. Ron found himself alone, after losing his best friends. He found himself with a hole in his chest, with a void in his soul he knew never would go away. And he had not overcome all his insecurities and fears. Remember that I told you that only oneself can fight their own demons. When Ron saw you, his world crumbled. He had only his family, a family he was so worried about, a family he desired to protect. He lost you, and then, heartbroken and depressed, he watched Bill being wounded, and Ginny saving her life miraculously."

Omega made a short pause and looked at them all.

"There was never a choice," he told Harry. "Since the moment Dumbledore put that ring on his finger, Ron had to be the betrayed, and you the betrayers. There was no other way."

"There had to be another way," Hermione said, crying. "THERE HAD TO BE ANOTHER WAY TO WIN THE WAR! Another way not so cruel, so terrible."

"There were other ways that did not involve Ronald getting a Source, you are right," Omega said. "However, victory was unlikely if we had let you go on your own. Certainly, you three could fight, alongside others. And in some scenarios, you ended up winning, but it was too risky. A lot of things depended on choices from others. I said it before: Voldemort's victory was the most likely outcome. Dumbledore made some mistakes. He tried to destroy the power of the Elder Wand, but it ended being Draco Malfoy's. And he trusted the most important secret to the man you three believed was a murderer and a traitor."

Omega made a pause, but no one said anything.

"And, on the other hand, would you prefer those scenarios, Hermione?" he asked. "Do you want me to tell you about some of those possible futures?" Omega asked. "Do you want to know what could happen had we not done what we did? Do you?"

Hermione said nothing, a sense of fear filling her.

"In one of those alternate futures," Omega began to tell them, "Harry prevails at the end. Voldemort dies." Hermione was about to say '_see?'_ but before she could open her mouth, Omega continued, "It happens just after you see Ronald die to protect you. Would you prefer that future, Hermione?" Hermione closed her eyes, now full of tears again, and shook her head, moaning. "Maybe you would like more this other, in which you three survive, but in which Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Colin Creevey, Fred Weasley —" Ginny gasped and Hermione moaned again "— and several others die in the final battle, which takes place in these grounds. Do you like it? Well, there is another possible outcome, in which Ginevra, William, Fleur, Neville, Luna and countless others die long before the final battle, when you are killed, before Harry dies as well. Are any of these possible futures better than the one you are living in, Hermione? And these are the good endings. I shall not speak about what would happen if you lost.

"We are not human. We do not care about individual people. Why should we worry more about your love lives than the lives of countless people? Are you more important than the future, than the lives of millions of people? Nothing is free in this universe. The intense pain, the heartache and angst you all experienced was the price of peace, the price of a better future."

Hermione was unable to speak. She was trembling, seeing in her mind all those deaths, the same deaths Ron had prevented. Now she didn't know how to feel. On one hand, she felt cheated: she had received the gift of true love just to lose it forever. But on the other hand, was her happiness worth those deaths? Would she exchange Fred's life — or Ginny's, or Neville's, or Luna's — for being with Ron? No, she'd rather live without Ron's love knowing that he was safe and sound, than be with him to end up seeing him die for her, or knowing that other people, people she loved, had died unnecessarily.

She looked at Omega, and the worst thing is that now she couldn't feel rage, not anymore. He was right; from their point of view, they had done what they had to. It was unfair, but, who had said that life was fair? She would have to live with it. She had already accepted it, hadn't she? And, in a certain way, shouldn't she feel better, regarding what had happened? She had never fallen in love with Harry, it hadn't been her who had wanted to kiss Harry ...

She looked at Ron. He was silent, staring off at the lake. He seemed deep in thought. What would he think about this?"

"I don't understand," said Harry, who looked pale and shaken. "You said that these _second_ _paths _ would have disappeared during the summer. But they didn't!"

"They would have disappeared, but after the kiss, your other parts got stronger. You, your true selves, were heartbroken and consumed by guilt and pain because of what had happened. But the other part was .. happy, in a way. That is why you could not stop thinking about the kiss. That is why you felt that it was right when you were together. It was not _you_ who felt it was right!

"Ronald left with me. And you went home. But we knew that the kiss was not enough. When someone tries the Journey, there is a moment when they must be ready to die, and then find the strength and determination to go on. The body must exhaust itself to let magic take absolute control. Only one person had survived that moment before, we knew that Ronald would need something, something to make him go on when the moment came.

"You already felt that void in your soul, Hermione. After the kiss, after him leaving, that hole appeared. But you had another part in your soul, you had another love, and that unwanted love filled that hole. Your minds do not love suffering, after all. So that new love, that unwanted love, clouded your true one. But it never disappeared. It never vanished. It was there, always there ... like a broken heart waiting to be mended.

"We needed you together at Grimmauld Place. We would have wanted you, Hermione, to be Harry's protector instead of Tonks. We wanted to ensure the survival of both of you. But this time, we could not influence you. You simply could not allow yourself to be relatively safe while the Weasleys were risking their lives.

"However, you survived, and then you both went to Grimmauld Place. It was not a coincidence that Ronald and I started the travel across the mountains the next day. But you were still resisting. You were trying not to be together. But your minds were too tired, too depressed. You needed someone to comfort you, and that part of you that loved the other took control. Do not you remember, Hermione? Feeling as if nothing else was important? I have told you that, to your second natures, the war, friends, other people, were not important. Even when Scrimgeour gave you Dumbledore's gifts you could not focus. You were not yourself. The tension, the power of your other selves, were too much. And you succumbed, and made love."

Hermione closed her eyes. She could not think about that now. Though it was effectively like a dream, or a nightmare, she could not bear the images.

"We needed that. We cannot lie. I could not just tell Ron that you were together at Grimmauld Place and happy, because it was not true, and besides, he already believed you were together. It had to be something much stronger, something that would hurt even more, something that would give him the strength to go on."

"But, after it happened, after we I told Ron and he found the determination to fight and go on, we did not need to force the new natures on you anymore, so your true selves started fighting back. You discovered, that night, that you were not happy. That what had happened could not make you happy. Guilt? A bit. But the truth is that making love with Harry could not make you feel complete, and could not make him feel complete. So you stopped doing it. However, your soul was still divided, and you still felt that love. Love does not disappear easily. And we needed that, because it was the only part of you that really wanted to be alive. That part, that love, protected you, because it was essential that you survived. We still needed you. Ron would need you. And you, Harry had another soul in you, another soul without a mind. Only the love of that part of your soul protected you then.

"You believed that, at some point, it was the misery you felt, after having to flee, what drove you apart. But it was not. That misery was the only thing that kept you together. That misery, that need for human comfort, the comfort that only that other part of your soul could provide. That is why you made love that day before the Ministry, and those other two days, on especially miserable times. But eventually, it faded. That love could not make you really happy, so that part of your soul, that part that was clouding your true love, fell out of love. What happened to it? It became numb, useless, but, still, it clouded your true love. Not completely, but it continued to cloud it.

"Of course, you could not really understand what had happened, why you two had ended up being so miserable; how that overwhelming love had vanished. But you were thinking as a person who had fallen out of love. You blamed misery, because it was the only rational explanation you had, but, deep down, you knew that Ron absence was the cause. Your true selves could not be happy without him, it was as simply as that.

"But you still had a divided soul, and you could think about you making love, about you kissing. You even could kiss, that morning when Ron left. There was not love, yes, but it felt like a kiss between a couple who had fallen out of love, but had had a great time together. But you cannot do that now, can you? Now you could not kiss. Now, thinking about kissing the other, or making love with the other, makes you feel disgusted and sick, does it not? Why?

"Because when Ron appeared that day, when you saw him again, your true nature awoke completely. Ah, he was not himself, and that delayed things a bit. But when he touched you for the first time, Hermione, before Apparating to Hogwarts, the love you felt for him started to mend you soul, that numbness vanished, and all the feelings, all the regret, started flooding you. When you went to the beech tree and remembered Ron telling you the he loved you, you were completely yourself again. And that is why you now see what happened like an odd dream, because the memories of those feelings, of those moments with Harry, belong to another person, but are in your mind and caused by your soul. You have to deal with memories that are not exactly yours. And the same goes to Harry, though his soul started to mend when he saw Ginny. However, the piece of soul from Voldemort kept taunting him, trying to cause more damage, because that was its nature."

Ginny wiped away her tears, and Hermione did the same. Her mind was overwhelmed but all that information. Now she knew all the truth, now she understood everything, and it was too much.

"This — this —" started to say Harry, shaking his head, but then felt silent again and brushed his face.

"You deserve a round of applause," said then Ron, scowling intensely at Omega. "Yeah, you're really good at manipulating people. Thought, Dream, Love, Hate ... You're well suited for the job, aren't you?" he added spitefully. "Yes, it was a masterpiece, what you did to me. Forcing Harry and Hermione to fall in love, delaying the battle so it happened the day after I had caught them ... You knew that the outcome of the fight would increase the idea that I wasn't good enough; good enough to keep Hermione in love with me, good enough to protect my family. When you spoke to me, that morning before the battle, you knew what was going to happen, you knew that I wouldn't go with you then ... You just wanted to make me think about it, didn't you?"

"That was the plan," Omega admitted unashamedly.

"I knew that you wanted something, that there was something more, but I never suspected that you were the main reason I had suffered so much. You do anything to get what you want, don't you?" he said, his lips quivering with barely contained anger. "You don't mind how far you have to go to get what you want. That Greek man, the one who sacrificed part of his life to get the Source ... Tell me: why did he do that, eh? What did you do to him?"

"He had a son," Omega answered, impassive; "a six years old son that caught an unusual disease. Magic was the only way to heal him; otherwise he would not live more than three or four years. He sacrificed his entire life, and lived just one year, to save him."

"And it was a coincidence that that child caught that disease, was it?" snarled Ron.

"It was not," Omega admitted, and Hermione put her hand over her mouth to muffle a gasp of horror. It was astounding what lengths these Protectors were willing to go to achieve their goals. "The boy was seven years old when his father came back. He saved him and he was one of the first who were trained in the magical arts. He travelled around the world to teach others after his father died."

Then he moved suddenly and faced Omega again, still scowling. "Well, are you going to tell us the reason you've come? I'm fairly sure it wasn't to tell us this, wasn't it?"

"I came to put things right. It was the first thing I told you."

"Put things right? How?" asked Harry. "Everything is already all right, isn't it? According to your plan, at least. Voldemort is gone; your _Purpose_ is safe."

"You are not right," said Omega. "Ginny and you will, eventually, get together. You are mean to be, after all. But Ronald and Hermione are different."

Hermione stared at Omega. What was he saying?

"You sacrificed your love to get your Source," Omega continued, this time addressing Ron. "You cannot feel love towards her, so you cannot be together while you are what you are now."

"What are you saying?" Ron spat. "There's no turning back to what I was. You told me yourself."

"The case, Ronald, is that there is a way."

"WHAT!" Hermione yelled, her heart rate increasing enormously.

"I told you that you had to accept that you would not love again, Ronald. Like any sacrifice, you do not really have to lose what you sacrifice, what does it is that you believe that you are going to lose it. Harry could protect people dying for them without really dying. What was essential is that he believed that he was going to die. It is the same in this case. You have still your love. You can destroy your Source and feel it again. You can be with Hermione, Ronald. You can be happy once more."

Hermione gave a few hesitant steps forward. "Is — is that true?"

"It is," Omega said, his eyes fixed on Ron.

"Ron?" Hermione said, looking at him. But Ron didn't look back at her. He was staring at Omega with his eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face.

"You are telling me that it is possible to get a Source and then going back? That I can use it or discard it whenever it suits me?"

"That is not true. The knowledge is in you, Ronald. Make the question, and get the answer."

"How?" asked Ginny, an eager expression on her face. "How can you go back?"

Ron looked at Omega without answering.

"You know the answer, Ronald."

"Pain," said Ron plainly, his eyes still fixed upon Omega. "By suffering all the pain I avoided when I got the Source, when I sacrificed my love. It would be a terrible pain to endure, worst than anything I had to deal with before."

"Exactly," nodded Omega.

"Pain?" said Hermione, the hope that had been bubbling inside her deflating a little.

"No more half-truths," said Ron, ignoring Hermione comment. "No more misinterpretations. You are not here, you are not telling us all this so I can get back together with Hermione. You said that Harry and Ginny would eventually work things out, and I am sure Hermione can do the incredible things she's meant to do even if I am not with her. What is the _true reason_ you are doing this?"

"I told you that the Source was something humans should not know of," explained Omega. "Its purpose is to be used as a last resort. I showed you how to get it so you could defeat Lord Voldemort, win the war, and save the world, present and future. But now there is no reason for you to have it. You are planning to go around the world, to do things, to help people ... But things should not happen that way. Your Source is too powerful, and your magic is amplified by your wand. No human should have the god-like powers you possess."

"God-like powers?" asked Harry, wheeling round to glance at Ron in awe.

"God-like powers," repeated Omega, still staring at Ron. "You defeated Lord Voldemort easily. In fact, you could defeat anyone easily, as you are, to all purposes, invincible."

"Invincible?" said Harry, blinking rapidly in confusion. "But in the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge took his wand. If she had used her own wand to attack him instead of his —"

"Nothing would have happened," Omega finished. "The Source fills him with the White Light. That is why he does not need to eat, why he does not need to drink; that is the reason he never sleeps and never gets tired. The White Light can stop the Killing Curse or any other curse or jinx you could think of. While he has the Source he is virtually immortal."

"I — immortal?" repeated Hermione, looking at Ron. He didn't say anything.

"You are too powerful," continued Omega. "You are going to make things that are supposed to be difficult too easy. That is not the way the world must work. Humanity should have to work hard for the good things so they could value them. If you make things too easy, people will become careless and lazy. And then is the other question, Ronald. One that is tormenting you."

Hermione looked at Ron. What question was tormenting him?

"So," said Ron, "you used me, I did what you wanted, and now you want me to give up my powers, don't you?"

"You can be with Hermione again, Ronald. You can be happy again with her. Now you know the truth. Now you know that she did not fall in love with Harry because she thought he was better than you, or because she thought you were not enough. She loves you, Ronald. You know it is true."

"So that is why you needed Harry and Hermione. You needed them to be with me, so I wouldn't do anything harsh, and so I had a reason to give up the Source, don't you?"

"You are right," confirmed Omega.

Hermione felt her heart beat quicker inside her chest, and she couldn't help looking at Ron hopefully. What was just a dream a few hours ago — getting back her Ron, a Ron that was not cold and detached, but warm and funny and caring — was now a possibility. It seemed almost unreal.

Ron looked at her and their eyes met. For a few moments, they hold their gazes, but Hermione didn't see in Ron's eyes what she wanted to see. Then, he looked again at Omega and his scowl intensified.

"You did a good job manipulating me in the past, but you can't do that anymore. You said that you use people's love, people's feelings, to influence them. But now that I sacrificed it, you cannot use that to influence or control me. That's why you are here, because now it's the only way you can make me do what you want. That's why you told us all this; otherwise, you wouldn't have bothered. You said I can be with Hermione again. Well, why would I want to do that?" he asked, and Hermione felt as if he had stabbed her straight in her heart. "Why would I give up my powers and suffer an unbearable pain just to have something I don't want? I don't feel love; I don't need her; I don't want to be with her. I endured a terrible journey to get what I have now, and I don't intend to throw it away just because it doesn't suit you _now_."

Hermione felt tears filling her eyes. Each word coming from Ron's mouth was like a blow, like a stab or a curse, shattering her dreams and hopes — all over again.

"You cannot be happy the way you are, Ronald," Omega warned him. "You cannot have happiness without love. She loved you, Ronald; really loved you. And she still does. You can have something unique. And you will not have to give up your powers, not completely. You would still have your wand, the Wand of Power, the most powerful wand ever made. And you can remember a lot of things you learnt from the Source."

"I don't feel love, and I don't want to," Ron replied, and he turned round to look at the lake again. "I have something _unique_ now. There is so much I can do ... so much I can be ... Without the Source I cannot produce White Light. There are a lot of things I wouldn't be able to do ..."

"And with the Source you cannot be happy."

"You don't care whether I am happy or not!" Ron snapped, wheeling round to face Omega.

"You are right. It is not in our nature to care about individual people. I am just stating a fact."

"Ron?" said Ginny hesitantly, her eyes full of tears and hope. "Ron, please. We want you back. We need you. Please, Ron, think about it. Think about Mum, about all us, about Hermione. Ron, we've already suffered too much, all of us. _Please, Ron_."

"You don't have any idea of what you're talking about. You don't know what I'd have to do," he said, and Ginny lowered her gaze. Then he looked at Hermione, and she tried to give the impression of being serene and calm, fighting back her tears.

"I heard everything you had to say," Ron commented, looking again at Omega, "and it changes nothing. This doesn't change what I did, or how I am now. I don't feel love. End of story." He turned round and began to walk slowly, getting away from them. "I delayed my departure long enough," he added, without looking back.

Hermione saw Ron walking away from her, and now that she knew that there was a way to get back the old Ron, it was too much.

"R — Ron?" she said, walking towards him, but, seeing that he didn't stop, she yelled, "Ron, wait!", began to run and threw herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck and leaning her head against his chest. "Don't leave me, please!" she begged, sobbing. "We can be happy again, like we once were! P-please, Ron ... _Please_! I love you ... I love you ..."

Ron stood immobile for a few moments, and then put his arms around her. She pressed her body harder against him, hugging him tighter, and let her tears soak his jumper.

"Take care of yourself, Hermione," he whispered, and then added, "I'm sorry."

And before she could do or say anything, Ron's solid body vanished between her arms. Losing her balance, she staggered and finally dropped onto her knees on the snow, her arms now embracing nothing more than thin air.

Ron had gone, leaving her cold, bereft ... and alone.

* * *

><p><em>And this is it! I hope you understand, though probably you should read it again. Now you know the truth, now you know that Hermione and Harry never fell in love, because <em>_**Hermione and Harry can never, ever fall in love!**_ _I'm a bit disappointed in some of you that really thought that that was possible. NO! NEVER! __**It's Hermione and Ron, always Hermione and Ron. **Even what happened between 'Hermione' and 'Harry' was about Hermione and Ron and the love they shared.**  
><strong>_

_But it was not magic, magic cannot do something like this_

_Now you know that the 'what if' of this story is not 'what if Hermione and Harry fell in love?'. It was 'What if someone had decided that Dumbledore's guide was not enough, or too risky?'  
><em>

_You have a lot to think, and probably, a lot of questions. Next chapter, on Wednesday!_


	27. The Beginning of a New Life

_Well, how are your heads? Last chapter was very dense, I know, too many things to explain. If you didn't like it, sorry, but that is the way it was conceived from the very beginning. If you expected that Harry and Hermione were really in love ... Sorry, but I can't write that. Harry and Hermione, in my mind, can never fall in love._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 25<strong>_

**The Beginning of a New Life**

It had started snowing again.

Outside the window, thick snowflakes were falling soundlessly over the grounds in total silence, because there was no wind.

But Hermione was not seeing them, not really. She was sitting on the chair in her room, apparently staring out of the window, but her eyes were unfocused. Her mind was far away, thinking about what had happened, about what she now knew, and, above all, about what could have happened and hadn't.

When Ron had left, slipping between her embracing arms and leaving her behind, Omega had told them that he had done his best to change Ron's mind, and after that he had simply vanished, saying that there was nothing more for him to do there, and that neither he nor his equals would contact them ever again. He had seemed absolutely unconcerned by the failure in his attempt to get Ron to give up the Source, but he wasn't human, after all.

Once the three were alone, Harry and Ginny had embraced her, lifted her from the snow and tried to comfort her in the best way they could without saying anything. And she had clutched the front of Harry's robes tightly and had sobbed silently against his chest, trying not to break down completely.

When she had calmed a bit, she had asked them to take her to her room, where she had told them she needed to be alone and think, and they had complied with her request without questioning her motives or arguing with her. As soon as she was alone, she had got into the shower and, for half an hour, had sat down in there letting the hot water run over her body, feeling almost numb. She knew that she should feel better. The Fates had manipulated her, distorted her feelings, filled her with an unnatural love and lust for Harry ...

But that provided little comfort now that she knew that Ron had declined turning back to his old self, even though he could. He had explicitly rejected her and the idea of being together again. And, to make things worse, she knew that she could never move on, because loving Ron was in her path, was part of her nature, of who she was. She would never love another person the same way, with the same intensity, and she couldn't ever forget him, either.

She had accepted her punishment; she had accepted that she deserved the pain she was experiencing. But now? Did she deserve all this? Maybe she wasn't completely innocent, maybe she could have fought more, but wasn't this too much?

During a brief moment of madness, while she was there, kneeling on the snow, she had contemplated asking Omega for a new path, a path where she didn't love Ron, a path that allowed her to move on, or, at least, that didn't make her feel that void inside her. But she had realised, almost immediately, that it was a ridiculous idea. The protectors could not really do that forever, and, even if they could, they wouldn't, because they didn't care about her.

And above all — did she _really _want to stop loving Ron, though he couldn't love her back?

After stepping out of the shower, she had dried herself and put clean clothes on, enjoying the Warming Charm Ron had put in the room that first night in the castle, which was still active, and then had lied on the bed, staring at the ceiling. But after a while, she had got tired, had got up and had sat on the chair, facing the window, where she was now.

"Today's a new beginning," she said out loud, perhaps trying to convince herself. It was an undeniable fact, of course. She loved Ron, it was true, and she was not going to have him, but it was also true — as Ron himself had said — that she was a strong woman, a woman that did not need a man by her side to achieve great things. She would never be happy as she once had been, would never feel complete, but she surely could focus on her work and do some good. And even if she remained a single woman, she could still have children of her own, couldn't she? Maybe that could fill part of the void in her soul. She could raise them by herself, and she knew that Harry and Ginny, and surely the rest of the Weasleys and her parents, would be there for her. At least she still had that, her best friend, something Ron had not had.

She closed her eyes. What the protectors had done to hurt Ron and ensure that he would comply with their plan was too much, it hurt just thinking about it.

This thought made her think about all the things Omega had revealed to them, and she realised that, a year ago, she would have been exhilarated after discovering such secrets, after having become privy to the very purpose of existence. But right now, that didn't mean anything to her. Even thinking about doing some good — something she really wanted to do, had wanted to do _forever_ — brought out that rebellious side of herself, a side that only surfaced on very special occasions, like when Umbridge had been appointed as Hogwarts High Inquisitor. And, now, that side was against those plans, against fulfilling her _Fate_, against doing what the Fates wanted her to do, because she shouldn't help those who had brought so much misery into her life and into the lives of those she loved.

She sighed. She knew perfectly well that that side would never win. It was in her _path_, or her nature. She could never see anyone that needed help without trying to do something. Other people should not pay for what the protectors had done to her — to them.

With slow movements, she grabbed her beaded bag from the table, opened it and rummaged inside it until she found what she was looking for: the drawing. She took it between her hands, caressing its frame lovingly while she contemplated the scenes unfolding before her, several stages of a path that had culminated in her first kiss with Ron. This drawing, this gift, was part of her story. And now was a reminder of what had been, of what she had lost and could never get back.

Raising it to her lips, she kissed it softly, while a lonely tear ran down her cheek, and then she put it inside the beaded bag again. What was the point in dwelling on those memories? She wiped the tear away and sat down, remembering again those Christmas holidays, when she had felt so full of hope despite what was happening in the Wizarding World ...

A soft knock on the door took her out of her thoughts. Without answering, she got up and sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard. The visitor — or visitors — knocked again, this time harder.

"Come in," she said.

The door opened and Harry walked in the room, alone, and closed the door behind him, before getting closer to her and sitting on the bed beside her.

"How are you, Hermione?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

Hermione looked at him for a moment. It was still odd to see him without his scar.

She shrugged. "Fine, I suppose."

Harry didn't insist. "Ginny explained to the Weasleys some of the things Omega told us," she said, without looking at her.

"She did?" Hermione asked, a bit surprised. "And what did they say?"

"Well, they are horrified, of course," answered Harry. "Especially Mrs Weasley. She couldn't believe that someone, or _something_, could be so cruel, could do that to us after everything we've done." He shook his head and sighed."And yet, when Ginny told them about the possible futures ... Fred became pale as a ghost."

"I imagine," Hermione said.

"Well, I wanted to tell you that they're going to go back to The Burrow soon, Hermione. They want you and me there, too. After all this —"

Hermione had expected this, and had already made up her mind by then, but wanted to know what Harry was going to do.

"Well, Ginny is going ..." Harry said, his voice tailing away. "You know, Percy is coming this evening. I think we ought to go. I — I want to go."

"I'm not going, Harry."

He looked at her, and Hermione noticed there was no surprise in his eyes. It was obvious he was expecting this.

"I had an inkling you were going to say no," he said, and sighed. He looked at her with pleading eyes. "Please, Hermione, come. You can't be here on your own."

"I can't go to The Burrow right now, Harry. I simply can't. Not so soon, at least."

"Then I'm staying here with you."

"No, you aren't."

Why not?" he asked, frowning. "I won't leave you here, Hermione. You've never left me alone, you've been always by my side, and I'm going to be by yours."

"I know it," she said, not looking at him. "But I don't want you to stay. I need to be alone and think."

"But I _want _to make sure you're all right," he insisted.

"Are you and Ginny together?" she asked suddenly.

"Eh?" he said, quite surprised by the change of subject. "Er — no, we're not. We haven't talked about that. It's too soon, I think."

"Then you should go with her, and you will be better if you're alone," she said, more harshly that she had intended. "Don't worry about me."

Harry gazed at her with and odd expression.

"Hermione ... Are you — are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not," she answered. "Why should I?"

"Because —" he breathed, as though he were plucking up his courage, and finished, "because I can be with Ginny and you — you can't be with Ron."

"That's stupid," she said, but she averted her eyes from his. Harry didn't say anything for a few moments, he just watched her, but she tried to ignore it and began to play with the bottom button of her shirt.

"Hermione?" he said, grabbing her hand. She snatched it away and looked at him.

She could not deny it, because it was true. One part of her — a small part, but that was there nonetheless — resented Harry. Both of them had been fooled and manipulated by the protectors, but, while Harry could still be with the love of his life, she had lost hers. She felt ashamed by it, but couldn't help feeling that way.

"What do you want me to say, Harry?" she asked, a bit annoyed, although she didn't know why or at whom. "Yes, I feel a bit resentful. We both made mistakes, we both fell in the trap set up for us, we were not strong enough. But you can still be with the girl you love, can't you? It may be hard, but you can. I, however ... am doomed to be alone and loveless." She paused for a moment, and Harry didn't say anything, waiting for her to continue. "I know it's not your fault. And I really, really want you to be happy with Ginny, you know I do. You deserve happiness, Harry, but I can't help feeling like this. It is unfair ... though it is true that he was _my _boyfriend. You didn't lie to or cheat on Ginny —"

"We were not ourselves, Hermione!" Harry yelled with rage. "You're right, we made mistakes, but I think we've been punished more than enough. I think that all of us have suffered enough."

Hermione looked away.

"I know I can be with Ginny," continued Harry. "But I miss Ron, too. I miss him so much it hurts. And seeing you like this ..." she looked at him and he returned the stare. "Do you think I can be completely happy without my best mate and while you are so miserable? I can't, Hermione. Ron is like my brother, and you've always been like a sister to me. I know it sounds strange now, after — after what happened. But I feel that way, maybe because the true me has always felt this way towards you. I love you, Hermione, you know that. I know I told you otherwise the day Ron returned, but the truth is that I'm glad _I've never_ fallen in love with you. Don't get offended, but you're my best friend, and I want it that way. I don't want that to change or to be ruined. Never. I suppose that those memories, of what happened, will always be there. But they seem an odd dream now, and I prefer to think about it that way."

Hermione grabbed his hand and a little smile appeared on her face. "Don't worry, you don't offend me. I understand. I feel the same way. I know things will be awkward sometimes, but I hope that, as time goes by, it'll pass. I value your friendship, Harry, very much."

"There's nothing I can do or say that could make you change your mind, is there?" he said.

She shook her head. "No, I want to stay. And tomorrow I'll begin to arrange everything to go to Australia."

"Mr Weasley can help you with that," said Harry casually. He looked at her, full of determination. "Look, I'll make a deal with you: I'll let you stay here tonight, and I'll talk to Mr Weasley about the Portkey, and you'll come tomorrow on the Hogwarts Express with the rest of the students and then will go to The Burrow, even if it's only for a few hours."

"Okay," she agreed, nodding. "I'll be there tomorrow."

Harry clutched her hand tightly.

"I'm going to miss you, Hermione."

"I know," she said. "I'll miss you too."

"I'm sorry, Hermione, sorry for everything. But I will always be there for you," he promised, his voice full of emotion, and then they hugged each other, tightly, and stayed that way for a few moments.

"I'll leave you alone, then," he said, when they moved away from each other. "I'll see you later, okay?"

She nodded, and, he stood up and got out of the room.

Once the door was closed, she slid down the bed and lay flat on it. Her thoughts wandered again towards Ron. Where would he be? Would he think about her, even if only for just a moment?_ Surely not,_ Hermione thought. _Why would he? He rejected me, didn't he? But, from his perspective, it's absolutely logical ... He doesn't love me — or he _does_, but he can't feel it. Why would he give up his powers to be with a girl for whom he doesn't feel anything?_

Yes, Ron's attitude had been the most logical one. And she, logical as she was, should have foreseen it, had she not been so foolishly blinded by the hope that had surged inside her at the possibility of having the old Ron back. If someone offered her to be in love with, let's say, Neville, if she gave up on part of her powers, would she accept? Of course not, because she didn't love Neville. She appreciated him, and liked him, but did not love him. One did not choose whom to love ...

She realised, a bit surprised, that she was not crying. Whether it was because she had accepted her _fate _(how much she hated that word now!) or because she had finally ran out of tears, she did not know, but it was somehow relieving. During the last four days (it seemed so unreal that _everything_ had happened just in four days; it seemed a lifetime) she had cried more than enough.

She left that line of thought and started to imagine her re-encounter with her parents. She had never missed them more than now. She needed them more than ever; they had always treated her like an adult, and she needed to talk to them, explain everything to them, say how sorry she was for what she had done to them, and, maybe, act like a child for the first time in a long time and seek solace between her mother's arms.

o o o

Slowly, she climbed down the marble staircase, her hands in her pockets, her eyes staring at the floor and a thoughtful expression on her face. Instead of going straight to the Great Hall, from where the sounds of the students having dinner were coming, she began to walk around the deserted Entrance Hall. She still had not made up her mind about whether she was going into the Great Hall and join Neville and the rest of Gryffindors.

The undistinguishable talk and the occasional noise of someone's laughter meant nothing to her. She felt oddly calm and completely detached from everyone else.

For a moment, she wondered what Harry and Ginny would be doing. Truly, she had wanted Harry to go, because she wanted to be alone — and she still wanted that — but she missed him, too. She wondered how Harry would feel, being at The Burrow without Ron, without her.

He, and the Weasleys with him, had come to her room an hour or so ago, to say goodbye. Mrs Weasley has tried to convince her to come to The Burrow, saying that she could not stay at Hogwarts, alone, but Hermione did not yield. Upon seeing her refusal to accompany them, she had asked her to go there tomorrow, and to stay there until her Portkey were ready. She, avoiding Harry's eyes, had given a simple "I'll think about it", but she was starting to doubt that she would do that. Surely, she would go and visit — she had made a deal with Harry, after all — but probably wouldn't stay. Afterwards, each and every one had given her a hug and, with a last "are you sure you don't want to come?" they had left.

And now here she was, in the Entrance Hall, still thinking and not knowing what to do. She looked at the doorway leading to the Great Hall, and wondered how many of her fellow students would know that Ron was gone again. Would they look at her with pity while she made her way towards Gryffindor table? That thought brought to her mind the memory of what Ron had showed her, and now she could understand perfectly how he had felt, why he had avoided other people, not wanting to see the sympathetic looks on their faces. That memory, the images of Ron's pain, made her want to cry again, and she felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes once more.

"You're a Gryffindor," she told herself, sniffing, and wiped the tears away forcefully. "You cannot avoid them forever and you need to eat, so go in there."

After several moments of hesitation, she began to walk towards the doorway and then she stopped there, leaning against the doorframe and watching silently the scene before her eyes.

Those people, who were merrily talking and eating, would never know that they had survived, that they were there, chattering happily and laughing, alive and unscathed, because she had lost the love of her life; because she had been manipulated and used; because, one awful day, she had succumbed and kissed Harry. But, even though this truth made her feel a bit resentful, she knew that she wouldn't have it any other way. She observed Luna, who was speaking to her classmates, wearing her wand above her left ear and her odd necklace of corks from old butterbeer bottles round her neck. She was too good to die. Or Neville, who had fought so bravely against the Carrows and suffered so much because of it. Her love life, her happiness, was not worth their lives and those of countless others.

Plucking up her courage, she began to move towards the spot where Neville was sitting, with Seamus, Dean, Parvati and Lavender, ignoring the looks several people were giving her.

"Hi," she said, sitting in front of Neville and besides Parvati, silently thanking that she was facing away from the rest of the tables.

"Hi, Hermione," said Neville. Parvati turned her head and gave her a sympathetic and reassuring smile.

"You're here!" said Seamus, looking at her with evident surprise. "We thought you would go with the Weasleys to —" he began to explain, but caught the glare Neville was throwing at him and stopped abruptly, turning red. "Er — sorry."

"Don't be," said Hermione mechanically, and began to put some smashed potatoes on her plate. She tried to ignore the animated talk and laughter surrounding her, but after a while she started to feel a bit annoyed. Had everyone to be so _cheerful_? She gulped the mouthful of food inside her mouth and then dropped her fork onto the table. Suddenly, she wasn't that hungry anymore. In fact, she realised, she wanted nothing more than to be in her room, alone with her thoughts. Why the hell had she come down?

"Are you coming to London in the Hogwarts Express tomorrow?" Neville asked her.

"I suppose I shall," she answered.

"Good," he nodded, clearly not knowing what else to say.

Hermione looked at her plate, still full of food, thinking about how rude it would be if she stood up and left the Great Hall that instant.

"You should eat," she heard Parvati say softly. "Starving yourself won't solve anything."

"There's nothing to solve. I'm simply not hungry," Hermione retorted. Parvati's face turned pink and she looked away.

"You don't have to be so rude," Lavender told her. She was sitting beside Neville and now was glaring at her. "She's only trying to help. She's concerned about you. We all are, in fact."

Hermione felt suddenly ashamed. "Sorry," she said to Parvati. "But really, I'm fine. There's nothing to be worried about."

"Of course there's something to be worried about," replied Lavender, tactless. "You're in love with Ron and he's left. You can't be fine. I wouldn't."

Hermione looked at her with her mouth wide open.

"Lavender!" Parvati scolded her friend.

"Who told you I'm in love with him?" Hermione snapped, scowling at Lavender.

"Oh, it's obvious, the way you look at him. We all saw that look last year, so it's old news."

"A lot has happened since then," Hermione said.

"Yes, certain things change, but others don't," Lavender replied wisely. "Don't deny it, because it's pointless. I know we never were the best of friends, Hermione, but we care for you."

"Thanks," said Hermione, flushing a little.

"Ron is not the only boy in the world, though," Lavender continued. "I know, Hermione, I fancied him, too. It's hard now, but it'll get better."

_No, Ron's not the only boy in the world_, Hermione thought, lowering her gaze,_ but he's the only one for me._

"Besides, seeing him now ... well, he's powerful and all that, but sincerely, I liked him more when he was normal and funny. Now he's a bit scary, to say the truth."

"Lavender, drop it, please," said Neville, a bit embarrassed. "Leave Hermione alone. Her relationship with Ron is none of your con—"

Hermione was looking at her plate, avoiding Lavender's eyes, but, when Neville stopped talking so abruptly, she raised her head and looked at him, and saw that he was now staring, his eyes big as saucers, towards the doors of the Hall.

"Neville? What's the ma—" Hermione said, but she stopped when, turning her head to see what Neville was staring at, she spotted the two people who had walked into the Great Hall and were now scanning the tables with their eyes.

Hermione had never seen the man, but she recognised the woman, even though when she had seen her for the first time, more than two years ago, in St Mungo, she had looked older, with her grey hair and frail appearance, and had seemed completely lost while she gave a gum wrapper to Neville.

They were the Longbottoms, Neville's parents.

Neville stood up as in a trance, and, without blinking, he moved towards the newcomers like a zombie. Hermione, astounded, got also to her feet and moved towards the door, too. Neville's parents were a lost cause, but, despite that, here they were, looking healthy and younger and, above all, perfectly sane.

Neville stopped a few feet away from them, staring at them as if he could not believe what he was seeing. Frank and Alice Longbottom stared back at him, too, and when they half raised their arms in a welcome gesture, Neville threw himself at them, wailing like a hungry baby, not caring that all the students in the Great Hall were watching him, and his parents embraced him tightly.

Hermione had seen Neville cry a lot of times, especially during their first year at Hogwarts. He had cried, perhaps, more than any other student she had known; but seeing him now, so grown up and toughened, a war hero, sobbing like that, was utterly disturbing.

"It's okay, It's okay, sweetheart," Alice was muttering, caressing the back of her son's head, thick tears spilling from her eyes and running down her cheeks.

"H-how? How?" Neville was asking between sobs. "I thought — I thought —"

Hermione, who had now reached them, knew that the way the Longbottoms had recovered could only be considered a miracle, and, in the entire world, she knew that there was only one person capable of doing such wonders.

Like pulled by an invisible and irresistible force, her head turned towards the doorway, and there he was, watching the scene from outside the Great Hall, still dressed in his black clothes and wrapped in his cloak. Ron.

Her heart began to beat faster, and she felt the impulse to run towards him, envelope him in a tight hug and never, ever let him go. But this time she refrained. She would not let hope cloud her mind. This time she wouldn't endure disappointment, because she wasn't going to let herself hope. If Ron was here again was not because of her. He probably just wanted to do some good things in the country before leaving.

For a while, he held her gaze, until her attention was drawn again towards the reuniting family beside her.

"Ron?" said Neville, now calmer, looking at him and brushing his eyes. "It — it was you? You — you _healed_ them?"

"Yes," Ron said.

Neville looked at her mother again, and she shrugged. "We don't know how it happened. It felt like waking up, after a long nightmare, and it was as if something incredible good, incredible powerful, was inside me, banishing all the bad things, clearing my mind, letting me think properly and acknowledge what was surrounding me. The healers said it was a miracle. And he healed not only us, but everyone else in the ward, too."

"Do you — do you remember all — all these years?" Neville asked, shaking a bit.

"Not completely. It's like a foggy dream, or nightmare," his father answered. "But there is something we do remember, and it is each and every one of the times you visited us."

"Oh, God," Neville said, crying again and hiding his face behind his hands. His mother embraced him again, she was crying as well.

"It's okay, Nev. It's okay. Everything's all right now. We're here, and we are so proud of you ..."

"Y-you — you are?" Neville said between sobs.

"Of course," his father responded. "The man — Ron, I mean — told us about you before coming here. But there's still so much we want to know."

Neville looked then at Ron. Beaming, he walked towards him, and, after a moment of hesitation, embraced him tightly. "Thank you so much, Ron. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you've done."

Hermione noticed that Ron seemed a bit uncomfortable. He didn't return the hug.

"It's nothing," he said finally. "I did what I had to."

Neville got off him, looking a bit embarrassed, and smiled. "Thank you," he said once more, before turning round and walking back to his parents.

Then, Hermione noticed the silence around her, and looked around. Everyone was looking at them, some of them whispering, undoubtedly explaining who the Longbottoms were and what had happened to them. Hermione spotted professor McGonagall, who had left the staff table and was now walking hurriedly along the aisle between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, closely followed by Hagrid.

"Frank ... Alice!" she said, completely taken aback when she reached them. "Merlin's beard, it's really you!"

"Hello, Minerva," Mrs Longbottom said, smiling warmly. "It's good to see you, after so long. And you too, Hagrid. I'm glad you're fine. Where is Dumbledore?"

A pregnant silence fell over the group, and the professors, Neville and Hermione exchanged looks.

"He — he died, Mum," Neville said finally.

"Oh!" said she, mortified.

"Dumbledore dead?" Mr Longbottom said. "It can't be! How?"

"Well —" Neville said hesitantly, glancing briefly towards Snape, who was sitting in the table. "He — he died in the war, trying to stop Lord Voldemort. It's a long story, I'll tell you later."

Hermione saw Ron move out of the corner of her eye and, while the group besides her kept talking, she turned her head to look at him, who was now approaching her.

"Hi," he said, stopping three feet away from her.

"Hi," she answered, a bit awkwardly, and then fell silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. His departure was like a wall between them, but maybe only she felt it. Ron didn't care, after all. "It's nice what you did for them," she added after a moment. "I've never seen Neville so happy."

"I didn't do it just for them," Ron replied. "I healed everyone there."

"Even Lockhart?" she asked.

"Even Lockhart," he confirmed. "He can't use my wand to try to wipe out my memories now, so I thought it was safe."

Hermione stared at him. Was that an attempt of a joke?

His eyes fixed on hers with a hypnotic stare. "What are you doing here, Hermione? Why aren't you at The Burrow, with Harry and my family?"

Hermione, with a great effort, tore her eyes away from his. "I didn't want to be there," she answered. "I've never been at The Burrow without you. I didn't want to face the memories." She didn't even try to lie or to conceal the truth. What was the point, when he could read her perfectly? "You didn't expect to see me here, when you came?" she asked.

"No. I _knew_ you would be here," Ron replied, and Hermione opened her mouth widely in surprise. "That's why I came. I just didn't understand why you were here."

"You came because I was here?" she asked, astonished. "You didn't come to bring the Longbottoms so that they could see Neville?"

"No. I could have sent them here without coming. I'm here for another reason," he responded.

"Another reason?" Hermione asked, confused and a bit nervous. "Which reason?"

Ron didn't answer immediately. He stared at her so intensely that Hermione felt her cheeks flushing, but she couldn't avert her eyes from his. A moment later, he outstretched his right arm towards her, offered her his hand and said, "Take my hand, Hermione, and come with me."

* * *

><p><em>I hope you liked the scene with the Longbottoms as much as I did when I wrote it. Now Ron's back once more ... and new cliffhanger. Sorry!<em>

_Well, my readers, this is coming to the end. Only one more chapter and the epilogue._

_See you this Friday!_


	28. Destiny Fulfilled

_Well, the last chapter. Though I ended up adding an epilogue, this was, always, the end of the story for me._

_I wrote this story for myself, because I love writing, and I loved it. In fact, I was a bit sad when I finished it. I hope you like it, too. Some of you told me you don't want it to end, but everything ends!_

_Now, I want to thank all of you who left me a review (even the negative ones!), or added this story to favourites or alerts._

_But, above all others, I want to mention a few people, and I want to dedicate this chapter to them:_

_**Livi**__: thank you for all your support, your encouragement and your enthusiasm. You're great, and I'm glad and lucky for having you as a reader and fan._

_**Romina: **__You've always been there, too. Sorry for how much I made you suffer, and thank you for going through it all. I loved all our disagreements!_

_**Zlatan: **__Thank you, too, for being there from the beginning!_

_**Dianna:**__ Thank you for all your disagreements, too! I loved all our chats._

_**Alquimista: **__Thank you too for all your reviews and your predictions._

_**Wayne: **__What can I tell you? You've made me write to you almost as much as I did to write the story! Thank you for all your time and for making my mornings a bit better!_

_**CleverKad**_**: **_for being the most annoying person ever! ;-)_

_And to all of you, R/Hr shippers, who went through all this, who stood by Ron no matter what and who endured the worst nightmare known to us, here it is. Hope you like it_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 26<strong>_

**Destiny Fulfilled**

Hermione stared at his open hand, dumbfounded. The impulse to grab it and comply with his request, no matter where he wanted her to go with him, was so intense that her hand twitched and moved a bit before her will made it stop. Shaking her head a bit, she looked up at his eyes again.

"Go with you?" she asked, in a husky voice. "Where?"

"Far away," he said, "to a place where we can talk."

"Talk about what?" asked Hermione, who was becoming more and more surprised.

"About a lot of things," he said. "Come with me, please."

Hermione stared at him in awe, not being able to say anything. Had he said _'please'_?

Slowly, she raised her hand and put it in his. He clutched it tightly, his eyes still fixed on hers.

"Where are we going, Ron?"

But Ron did not answer, because Neville's cheerful voice interrupted them.

"Hermione! Hermione, I want you to meet my pa—" he stopped abruptly upon seeing their joined hands. "Are you going anywhere?" he asked, now serious.

"Yes," said Ron. "As a matter of fact, we are."

Neville, his parents, McGonagall, Hagrid and the rest of people who had approached them were now looking at them, shocked.

"Where?" Neville wanted to know.

"Away," Ron answered. "You can introduce Hermione in another moment, Neville," he added. "We have to go."

Hermione shrugged and threw them an apologetic look, before being pulled by Ron towards the Entrance Hall.

"Ron, where are we going?" she asked again, a bit anxious. "I promised Harry I would be at The Burrow tomorrow —"

"Don't worry, you'll be," he said, and kept walking towards the front doors of the castle.

So Ron was not asking her to travel around the world with him, then.

"Ron ..." she said, almost whispering, when the front doors opened and they began to climb down the front stairs.

Ron stopped and turned towards her. "Do you trust me, Hermione?"

Did she? Did she trust this man, who looked like Ron but was so different from him? Did she trust this creature that was unable to feel love or affection?

"Yes," she said.

"Then just come with me, okay? I'll explain to you soon."

She sighed and nodded. He clutched her hand tighter, and next moment Hermione felt the well known constricting feeling of Apparition. When a second later the feeling was gone and she looked around, she noticed that, wherever they had Apparated, it was pitch black. She breathed again and the freezing air burnt her nostrils. It was much colder here than in the Hogwarts grounds. She released Ron's hand and wrapped her arms around her.

"Where are we?" she asked. "I'm freezing!"

A sudden ball of light appeared out of nothing above Ron's hand, and Hermione could see at last. She looked around, and her mouth hung open in awe.

They were in the cave where Ron had spent the last months. Under the new light, she could see the old, magical oak, the lake, and even Ron's old rucksack and the little cauldron he had used to prepare the infusion.

"Welcome to the Cave of Old Magic," Ron said.

"What — what are we doing here?" she asked, shivering.

"This is the place where I was reborn," Ron said simply, and she moved away from her. He took his wand and tilted his head backwards, closing his eyes. A moment later, Hermione saw in awe that he was beginning to glow, emitting an increasingly brighter light that allowed her to see the entire cave.

As the light grew in intensity, a warm, pleasant wind swept the entire place, ruffling her hair and making her give a few steps backwards. Profoundly impressed, she watched Ron unleash his incredible power, which was making the air in the cave become warm and pleasant.

The glow and wind coming off Ron stopped, and Ron opened his eyes again. He pointed his wand at the ball of light he had conjured before, and it grew bigger, its light now illuminating the entire cave.

Still impressed by Ron's extraordinary skills, Hermione thought again about the reasons to bring her here, to this place, the place where he had been reborn, according to him ...

The place where he had got rid of his love for her.

Hermione looked at Ron with her eyes big as saucers.

"You — you didn't bring me here so that I could get a Source too, did you?" she asked, a little afraid.

Ron turned round and looking at her, a bit surprised.

"Of course not," he answered. "You cannot get a Source, Hermione. You didn't make the Journey, you're not ready, and, above all, you don't have anything you want to sacrifice to get it. The pain you feel is not enough. Besides, you know that you could regain that love. That knowledge alone would prevent you from getting it."

"Well, then why are we here?" she asked, feeling relieved, although, thinking clearly about it, the idea that Ron wanted her to get her own Source was absurd.

Ron didn't answer immediately. Instead, he wandered around for a while, looking at everything in the cave as if he didn't know it.

"I'm confused," he said at last, not looking at her, as though he wasn't speaking to anyone in particular. "Well, now I'm not, or just a bit ... But I was."

"Why are you confused?" she asked, following him with her eyes, truly intrigued.

"Ever since I got the Source, back in September, my mind has been perfectly clear and determined. I knew what I wanted to do, and exactly how to do it. There were no doubts, there was no hesitation." He kicked a pebble with his right foot and it soared through the air and fell over the like, sinking in the water with a 'PLOSH!'

"I don't understand what you're trying to say, Ron," Hermione confessed.

"I've almost made up my mind," Ron continued rambling, as if he was arguing whit himself and not with another person, "but that frightens me a bit, and that's why I'm still confused," he explained. Hermione frowned. He wasn't making any sense and she was beginning to feel frustrated.

"Ron, really, I'm not following you. What in the world can you be frightened of? You beat Voldemort!"

"Yes, I did," he nodded. "That's what I am trying to say. Since I got the Source, I haven't feared anything. During these four days, I've never been afraid of anything, not for a single moment. Not even when I confronted him; I knew I was much more powerful and skilled." He looked at her. "What Omega said is true, Hermione: I can't die, nobody can harm me, because nobody is powerful enough to do so. I have nothing to fear, 'cause I am, to all purposes, immortal."

"Then why are you saying you're afraid?"

"I had a lot of time to think during these four days, Hermione. All those times I asked Harry and you to leave me alone, I wandered around Hogwarts, thinking, feeling the imprint that hundreds of people left in the magic of the castle ... the imprint we left there.

"I could see you, Hermione, and I started to realise that something was not right, that what I had believed before my departure was not true ... at least, not everything. And as the days passed, I've found myself remembering more and more about before," Ron explained, still not answering Hermione's question. "You know, little things ... Remember when Ginny asked me for a hug and I refused, the first day?" he asked, but continued speaking without waiting for Hermione's answer. "There was no point in embracing her. But today ... today I did it, because I could remember the feeling, and I knew it was a great feeling. But, of course, I didn't feel anything. Being around you all made me think, more and more, about this stuff ... I remembered how great it was simply touching your hair, or holding your hand. And I did those things and they meant nothing. And I, somehow, missed feeling something. But what I think I've missed the most is my jokes."

"Your jokes?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Yes. It seems a really stupid thing, doesn't it? But I missed them. I always could make you laugh, or _almost_ always."

"Yes, you could," she agreed, and couldn't help a sad smile. "It was one of the things I loved the most about you."

"And I never really valued it. Well, I did, but I always thought that that was not good enough, that to impress you I would have to do better things — powerful magic, playing Quidditch very well, being a hero ... And now I _am_ a hero, now I _can_ do powerful magic, and I definitely could give Harry and Krum together a run for their money at Quidditch ... but I cannot make you laugh. I can do everything I thought would impress you, and it is useless."

"_I am_ impressed by you, Ron," she said.

"But you cannot love what I am. However, you loved the Ron who could joke and make you laugh, even if he had difficulty learning some spell or was a disaster in potions. I can save your life, I can heal your wounds, but I cannot make you happy."

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. "I don't understand, Ron. I — I thought you didn't care."

"I don't."

"Then, what are you talking about? Sorry, but you're not making any sense."

"You were right, you know, about what you told me in Slughorn's Christmas party, about Harry being jealous of me. Harry never had, in eleven years, anyone who would give him a simple hug. And I always had it, and I used to complain about it. Now I have everything I've ever envied him — power, fame, even money if I wanted it — but cannot enjoy, cannot feel what a hug means. I kept doing these things, giving hugs, touching your hair, and they mean nothing to me. I can remember what it was, how it felt, but I can't feel it now.

"I went to St Mungo, Hermione, and didn't just heal Neville's parents, but everyone. And everyone was happy, exhilarated. And do you know what I felt? Nothing. I knew that what I had done was good, that it was a very good thing, but I couldn't feel pleased or content about it. And that worries me."

"Why?" asked Hermione, who, as Ron kept talking, understood less and less. "It was what you wanted, wasn't it? To stop feeling."

"I know it was what I wanted. And I am okay with that. But, don't you understand? I keep doing these things because I know that it is the right thing to do. It was what my parents taught me, what all those adventures with you and Harry taught me. I wasn't lying when I told my parents that you two had what it was left of the old Ron. Those memories are the only thing that makes me do what I do. I don't care, Hermione. I don't feel sympathy. I ended the war, and while you all were jumping and celebrating that you had a future, I felt numb. I have the eternity ahead of me, and yet, what are my reasons to live?"

"Well," she said, thinking. "You can do things, see the world — I don't know."

"I can do things, yes, things that, deep down, mean nothing to me. I have nothing more to learn about magic. When the night comes and everyone goes to their loved ones, to people that mean something to them, I remain alone."

Hermione did not know what to say, so she remained silent.

"And thinking about all that, I realised that, as I am immortal, maybe one day I'll forget my old memories, I won't remember who I once was, and then, what shall I do? What will stop me from doing what I mustn't? This question has been tormenting me."

"You're a good person, Ron."

"Yes, and maybe I'll try to do what is right. But what if I try to make people do the right thing using the wrong methods, like forcing them? I tried to make Harry go back to Ginny, Hermione, because I knew they loved each other, and I thought that I should ensure her happiness. I didn't think about the possibility that maybe Harry could not make her happy, because he felt too bad and the guilt was consuming him. I didn't think that, though they loved each other, maybe they could not be really happy together after what had happened. Do you see?"

Hermione nodded silently.

"This is what I was talking about. I have all this power, all this knowledge. I tried to ensure that my family, and even you and Harry, would be happy. I made plans, forced things ... but today, thinking about it, I realised that before all this I didn't need any scheme to make you all happy. I could do that easily. And now, despite all the power I have, I cannot do that.

"And, above all, Omega was right. Not only am I unable to make you happy, but I cannot be happy, either. I can do incredible things, but nothing can make me really happy. It's true that part of me doesn't really need to be happy, to love or to be loved. But I remember being happy, when I was with you; I remember being loved; I remember loving. And I don't want to, because of what I am and what I sacrificed, but _I want to want_. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "It makes perfect sense."

"After everything Omega told us, I came here," Ron said. "I felt so confused ... Yes, what he told us didn't change anything, what happened happened, and what is done is done, but, at the same time, it changed everything. For the second time in my life I thought that what I had believed was a lie. I felt cheated again. And I thought about everything, and remembered a lot of things. I thought about that kiss in New Year's Eve, and the way I stuffed that biscuit in my mouth and tried to kiss you with my mouth full and you put that face, as if you were revolted, but then you began to laugh so hard, and I started to laugh too, and then choked and coughed and you laughed even harder. I thought about our walks, about our jokes, and about the way you smiled and were simply happy, just like me. Do you think about it?"

"All the time," confessed Hermione. "I couldn't help remembering what you said to me before our New Year's kiss. You said that you just wanted everyone to survive, and to be able to kiss me again to celebrate the beginning of another year. It didn't turn out as we wanted, did it?" she said, her voice filled with sadness.

"No, it didn't," he said, nodding. "I thought about that, too. And about the train ride home, before Christmas, and how you seem so innocent at times, when you're actually so passionate about the things you love, like you were with me. And couldn't help remembering that wild side I know you have, that side I got a glimpse of during our time together."

Hermione felt herself blush and lowered her head, hiding her face behind her hair.

Ron walked towards her, and stopped three feet away, looking directly at her eyes.

"When I left this afternoon, I was so confused ... because I realised that all those moments, all those memories, were good, and not bad. That that had never been a lie, that you loved me, and that, despite what they did, deep inside you you never stopped doing so. I realised that there was no reason to feel more pain. I realised, for the first time, that I could go back and maybe be happy. So I thought, and thought, over and over again. And finally, I decided that I wanted that back; that I wanted to be happy again."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she opened her mouth, shocked, hope building rapidly inside her. "You do?" she asked, huskily. "You want to — to turn back into what you were?"

"That's what I decided," he said. "But, as I told you, I am afraid, and that's why I am still confused."

Now everything began to make sense to Hermione, except for that thing Ron was afraid of. "Why are you afraid of, then? I've already asked you."

"I'm afraid of the pain," he confessed. "When I got the Source, I promised myself I'd never feel pain ever again. I had suffered enough. And to destroy the Source, the pain I'll have to endure will be terrible. It could destroy me. And, as I don't feel love, I keep thinking why I should suffer such pain to get back something I don't want, something I don't need."

"Because you want to want," she commented, using his own words.

"Yes. I think, however, that I could stand the pain. I know that it was all a lie, that you, your true self, never stopped loving me, that you didn't want Harry. It's another thing what I'm afraid of," said Ron.

Hermione stared at him questioningly.

"You saw it, Hermione. When Omega told me about you and Harry making love, how much it hurt me. And yet, that saved my life that night. I don't care about that. Not now. I see you and I know that you love me, and only me. But what if I go back and I cannot stand it? I know why it happened. I know you fought, I know you tried to resist more than what would be possible for most people. I know that you realised the mistake you were making. I know I matured. The Journey changed me. I fought my demons and insecurities and I won. And I know that you've paid for it, that you've suffered a lot. But what if I cannot look at you, or touch you, without seeing Harry doing the same? What if I go back, only to find out that I did it for nothing, that, despite loving you with all my soul, I can't be with you?"

Hermione lowered her gaze again and sighed, not knowing what to say. "I don't know what to tell you, Ron. But, even in that case, you'd have your family. And I'll be waiting for you, no matter how long it takes for you to forgive me. "

Ron looked at her intensely for a few seconds before asking, "Do you want me to turn back into my old self, Hermione?"

"I want you to," she admitted. "You know I do. But I don't want to see you suffer, Ron. That's the last thing I want, I've already caused you enough pain. But I'd be lying if I told you that I don't want you to try. I want you to be happy, Ron. And to be happy, usually you have to suffer. The possibility of pain is the price of happiness. That's what Omega told us, and, even though I hate to admit it, he was right: the things that really matter are hard to get and even harder to keep, but we try to get them nonetheless, because that's what makes them so valuable. I don't know what will happen if you turn back into the old Ron. I know our relationship won't be easy, not after what happened — after what I did. But I think — no, I'm positively sure — that it is worth any pain and any effort. I knew that it was worth since the Yule Ball, Ron, even though you almost ruined my night that day," she confessed, looking at his eyes. "But I cannot make your choices. I just want to be happy, and you to be happy, because now you aren't. You know how I feel, and you know that I'll feel this way 'til the day I die. But if this can really destroy you, then maybe it would be better if didn't do it. You've suffered enough, Ron. I'm willing to suffer the rest of my life just to protect you from experiencing more pain."

"I know you are," said Ron, and added, "You really, really love me — well, the old me."

"More than anything," she said, lowering her eyes. "But you already know that."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said. "I was almost decided to do it," he added. "That's why I went to St Mungo before going to see you. I won't be able to conjure the White Light, or the Dark Shadow, without the Source, and I remembered Neville's parents, and wanted to save them, to do something good."

"And you did," Hermione said. "It was really wonderful, Ron. Neville won't ever forget it."

"But when I was there I thought that I could heal the rest of the people there, too. You see, Hermione? I didn't do it because I felt bad for them. It was just because I was there and it was easy. I didn't feel anything for them. I didn't care. And then, while I was doing it, while I saw the astounded expressions of the healers and the delight of the patients, I started thinking about what Omega had told me, and I realised he was right. I could do anything, Hermione. Except bringing the dead back, I could save anyone. And if I did, what would be the purpose of healers and many other people who work so hard to make things better, to help other people? They'd become useless, and that's not right. And people would become careless and lazy, thinking that I could solve all their problems." He stared at her intensely. "But now the confusion is gone. Now you've banished the last doubts I had. You're really, really willing to suffer your entire life just to protect me, even though you don't deserve such a great punishment. I've made up my mind, Hermione. I'm going to do it. I felt the same towards you once, and I want that back. I want to smile, and to laugh, and to joke. I want to look forward and have something to live for."

Hermione felt her heart beat faster. "R — Really?"

"Really."

"Ron, I don't want to be the cause of more pain. Please, promise me that if you're going to do this, you're doing it for yourself and not for me. Promise me that you're doing it not because it is right, or something like that, but because it is what you really want."

"I'm doing it for myself, Hermione. I can't really do it for you, you know. Right now, you don't matter to me. But I remember when you mattered, when you were the most important thing to me. And I want that feeling back."

Ron turned round and took his wand. He pointed it at the ground and a magical tent appeared out of thin air, fully constructed.

"Come with me," he told her.

Hermione followed Ron into the tent. It wasn't as big as the one Harry and her had shared after fleeing Grimmauld Place. It consisted just in one room with a bed placed in the middle, though the canvas was thick and almost as hard as wall. In one corner there was a little kitchen and a table. A little kettle and a glass were placed upon it.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"It can take hours," he said. "And it will be emotionally and physically extenuating. I need a bed," he added, as he took off his cloak. With a flick of his wand, his boots vanished. Then he took his jumper and lied on the bed. He wasn't wearing anything under it, and Hermione felt her face turn pink upon seeing his muscles and sculptured torso.

"You told me that there was no turning back into what you were," Hermione said. "Why did you lie?"

"I didn't," he answered. "I didn't know I could go back. I only knew how to do it when Omega told me. Once I knew I could, I knew how. I didn't before because I had never wanted to do it before, so I had never really thought about it or wanted to know if it was possible or not. The Source gives me knowledge about some kinds of magic only when I ask myself. It works ... like Hogwarts library for you. You know mostly of what's written there, but, sometimes, you have to go and search for the answer in a book."

She nodded, and, despite her anxiety, she couldn't help smiling at the metaphor he had used.

He took his wand and pointed it at his cloak. And instant later, a little bottle jumped out of one of its pockets and then grew bigger until it reached what Hermione suspected was its original size.

"I don't know what will happen to me," Ron said. "I could be destroyed in the process." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Ron didn't give her time. "That bottle contains a cure for lycanthropy."

"What!" she asked, surprised. "A cure for —?"

"Yes," Ron nodded. "A teaspoon is enough to cure a werewolf. I know there is not enough for all the werewolves, but it can be used to cure the new ones, especially kids. Perhaps if we prevent the conversion of new ones, we'll be able to stop that curse."

"But we can make more, if it is a potion!" replied Hermione, taking the bottle and watching it in awe.

"No potion can cure lycanthropy," explained Ron. "I added my power to that one, and that's why it works. Give it to Lupin, he can take some. Fortunately, his son won't need it."

"This is great, Ron. But you'll give it to him yourself. I don't want anything happening to you. If it's true you could be destroyed, I won't let you do this."

"You said that what we had was worth any pain," he replied.

"Pain, yes. Losing you, no. I've told you, I prefer to suffer."

"I'm doing it," he said. "I'm determined, and you know that I am too stubborn to change my mind. But, before starting ... do you know where your parents are?"

"In Sidney," she answered. "I don't know the exact address, though. But I can find them."

"I searched for them," said Ron. "The exact address is written in a piece of parchment inside the same pocket the potion was in."

"You did?" Hermione asked, amazed, stooping and reaching into the cloak's pocked. She found the piece of parchment and took it. She stood up again and read the address before putting it inside one of her pockets. "Thank you, Ron, so much," she said, almost crying.

"It's nothing," he said, and then looked up, towards the canvas above them, and breathed deeply.

"It's time," he declared.

"Are — are you sure?" she asked, intertwining and separating her hands nervously.

"No, but I'm going to go with it."

"Do you want me to do something?"

"Just stay beside me," he told her.

He moved his head to look at her, and she stared into his emotionless eyes.

"See you, Hermione."

Hermione wanted to say something, but no word left her mouth. The lump that had formed in her throat was preventing her from speaking.

Ron closed his eyes. For a while, he just lied there, as if he was about to fall asleep. Then, his breathing quickened and he shifted a bit, as if he was having a disturbed dream. Hermione stared at his body for a few minutes and slowly came closer to him.

"Ron?"

His body gave a few shakes, each more violent than the previous one. He lifted his chest, as if he was suffering a spasm. His hands opened and clenched intermittently and his mouth opened like in a silent scream. The fire illuminating the tent flickered, and Hermione felt the hair on her arms stand on end. The air surrounding her was charged with magic, Ron's magic, which seemed to be flooding the entire cave.

And then Ron screamed, this time for real, loudly. It was a terrible cry of pain, a scream that revealed an unbearable suffering. The fire died away instantly, and Hermione felt as if something hit her on her chest and stomach, and was blasted backwards, hitting the canvas of the tent and falling to the floor, clutching her chest, opening and closing her mouth trying to get some air, because it seemed that her lungs had stopped functioning.

Not being able to move, she watched Ron writhing on the bed, screaming at the top of his lungs. The canvas of the tent was flapping, like agitated by a strong wind, and the cave seemed to be better illuminated, but Hermione couldn't see the source of the light. It was as if the air itself was emitting light.

With a great effort, Hermione managed to get to her feet, still clutching her chest and panting with difficulty. Warily, she got closer to Ron, who was now sweating profusely, and his body was shaking as if he was trying to wake up from a horrible nightmare.

"Ron?" she called. "Ron, are you okay? Speak to me, please!" she said, noticing her anxiousness growing. She waited expectantly for an answer, but it never came.

Suddenly, Ron let out another terrible wail that made her hair stand on end and her to jump backwards, startled. Around her, the air was getting hotter and hotter, and just two or three minutes later Hermione noticed she was also sweating. The inside of the tent was now like an oven. Tentatively, she put a hand on Ron's forehead. He was so hot his skin was burning.

Frightened, she exited the tent. Outside it was a bit cooler, but not much more. Ron's magic was heating the entire cave. Looking around, she spotted the cauldron Ron had used to prepare his potion while he was training to get the Source. She took it, ran towards the lake and filled it with cold water. Then she hurried back to the tent, which was now even hotter, and Conjured some pieces of cloth. Kneeling beside Ron, she moistened one of the pieces of cloth and put it on Ron's forehead. Hermione didn't know how high his temperature was, but it couldn't be healthy. The cloth became warm soon, so she moistened it again and put it back on his forehead, pressing it so it didn't fall, because Ron was shaking and trashing uncontrollably.

"Ron, Ron, please, come back to me. Don't do this, please!" she begged, almost crying. But Ron didn't answer, and she understood that he was _really_ trying to wake up, trapped in a nightmare beyond her reach. A nightmare she had caused. He had sacrificed his love to escape the pain, and now, to get that love back, he had to endure it.

She kept putting wet cloths over his face for half an hour. His hair was drenched in sweat, just like his clothes and the sheets under him. She realised that he was losing a lot of water. Could he dehydrate himself by sweating?

Ron gave a forceful shake and Hermione fell onto her bum, caught by surprise. The cloth on his forehead slid through his face and fell onto the bed. Ron's body suffered another spasm and he let out another terrible cry.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he yelled, so loudly that Hermione feared he would vomit his own lungs. He started convulsing more forcefully, the bed creaking under him. "NOOOO, NOOOOO! STOP, STOP! I WANT IT TO STOP!"

Sobbing, unable to stand Ron's wails and suffering, Hermione crawled towards him, trying to hold him so he didn't fall out of the bed. However, it was useless, because Ron was too strong for her.

"Wake up, WAKE UP, Ron!"

Nothing happened.

Desperate, she took her wand and pointed it at him. "_Rennervate_!" she yelled. But, the instant she finished saying it, she felt another blow on her stomach that threw her backwards and left her breathless.

She stayed there, lying in the ground, sobbing silently. There was nothing she could do. They were alone, in the middle of the Tibet, and she didn't know enough magic to help Ron. She felt completely useless.

After a while, she stood up, took the cloth and moistened it again, but, when her hand touched the water, she realised it was too warm. Sighing, and trying to ignore Ron's screams and wails, she took the cauldron, exited the tent, emptied it and filled again with cold water. Tired, she walked back into the tent and started to repeat the process of refreshing Ron with the moistened cloth, now wary and alert, ready to protect herself against another blow of Ron's magic.

She kept at it for almost another hour, putting the wet cloths on Ron's forehead and changing the water every twenty minutes. But the heat inside the cave was still growing, and she felt as if she was in a sauna.

"How long is this going to take?" she asked, aware that no one could answer her, and let a new sob escape. Her emotions were absolutely out of control. She was calm at a certain moment and could be sobbing desperately the next. She hadn't imagined this would be so hard. How could Ron endure it?

When she was coming back to the tent, after having changed the water of the cauldron for the fourth time, the light in the cave became even brighter, the air began to move, creating a powerful wind, and, suddenly, a branch of the Oak tree, thicker than the trunk of most of the trees in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, broke with a loud 'CRACK!', fell onto the ground and burst into flames.

Scared, Hermione dropped the cauldron and ran towards the tent, where she found Ron suffering violent spasms and screaming again at the top of his lungs. She hurried to his side and tried to hold him, but stopped dead when she saw, horror-struck, that his nose was bleeding.

It was just a few drops at the beginning, but soon the flow increased, staining his left cheek and the left side of his neck with blood.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed. Regaining the ability to move, she dropped onto her knees and took the still moist cloth, using it to clean him. But the stream of blood wasn't stopping, and soon the whole cloth was also drenched in blood.

"Oh, Ron, Ron!" she sobbed. "P-please, wake up! Ron, you're g-going to die!" She glanced at her wand, which was lying on the ground, but didn't dare to use it, in case Ron's magic reacted against her the same way it had done before.

She put her head on his chest, feeling the intense heat his body was emanating, and continued sobbing, desperate and not knowing what to do. Her tears ran down her cheeks and onto his chest, mixing with the layer of sweat covering him. After a few moments, she lifted her head and stared at his face. He was still wailing and screaming, and the haemorrhage hadn't stopped. She put her hands on each side of his face and caressed him lovingly.

"Please, Ron, please, don't die! YOU CAN'T DIE!" she yelled at him. "I don't care if you can't love me, j-j-just come back and d-don't die!"

As if he had heard her, his body gave another violent spasm. Outside the tent, a new, loud 'CRACK!' resounded, followed by the 'THUD!' of another branch falling onto the ground.

"STOP! STOP! STOOOOOP!" he screamed, his voice now hoarse, after so much shouting. "PLEASE, PLEASE! HERMIONEEEEEE! PLEASE, PLEASE, HERMIONE, DON'T —"

Unable to refrain from crying, Hermione sobbed, still clutching Ron's face. Her right hand was now soaked in blood.

"I'm here, Ron. I'm h-here, w-with you. Please, come back, COME BACK!" and then she did the only thing that came into her head, and kissed him, full on the mouth, for the first time in seven months. It wasn't a great or a long kiss: she just pressed her lips against his for a moment, feeling his heat and savouring the metallic taste of the blood that covered them, but then he opened his mouth again to let out a new scream (though it seemed more like a roar) and she moved away from him. A strong wind got up, sweeping the insides of the tent, and Ron's body started to glow. A moment later, he arched his back, raising his chest into the air, and screamed again.

Something exploded, and Hermione was blasted backwards for the third time. She soared through the air, and then impacted against the thick and heavy canvas and crumpled onto the ground, unconscious.

o o o

When she opened her eyes, she blinked a few times, feeling dazed. Something was off, but she couldn't tell what it was exactly. She tried to move, but stopped immediately, wincing in pain; her back hurt. Gradually, she remembered what had happened, and suddenly, she realised what was off.

The silence.

The cave was extremely quiet. There were no screams, nor the noise of the wind, nor the sound of the branches of the tree moving and hitting one another. Besides, the air was colder than before. How much time had she been unconscious, and what had happened meanwhile?

"Ron?" she asked, worried, and tried to get to her feet.

There was no answer.

"Ron? Ron, are you all right?" she insisted, finally managing to stand up. It was almost completely dark inside the tent, and she could barely see Ron's body lying on the bed, still as a corpse.

_Don't think that!_, she thought, terrified by the idea.

She moved, slowly, towards the bed. She stepped on something cylindrical and stopped. Moving her foot, she stooped and touched it, realising it was her wand. She took it and lighted it up, illuminating the tent and Ron's body.

She walked to the bed and sat down on it. The left side of Ron's face and neck were scarlet due to all the blood that covered them. He had lost a lot of blood, but the haemorrhage seemed to have stopped now. She felt her anxiousness increasing.

"Ron?" she said again, bending over him, illuminating his face. She examined it, feeling close to tears. He had to be alive. _He had to!_

His eyes were closed and he was completely immobile, but, when she moved her head closer, she noticed that he was breathing. It was a very slow, soft breathing, but it was there nonetheless, and she felt a great rush of relief wash over her. For a moment, she felt the irrational desire to laugh, but it vanished the moment she looked at his hair.

His hair, that beautiful ginger hair she loved so much had regained the colour it had had before his departure. It was such a little thing, but Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears upon noticing it.

"Ron? Ron, can you hear me?" she asked, while she wiped her tears. "Open your eyes, please ..." she begged in a soft voice, moving her left hand and caressed the right side of his face tenderly and lovingly.

A mere moment later, his eyelids flickered, and finally, he opened his eyes, moving them around before fixing them on hers. Transfixed, she held his gaze, unable to move or to say anything except to stare at him.

For longer than a minute, the two did nothing but to look at each other's eyes, as if they were seeing each other for the first time after a very, very long separation. His eyes, like his hair, had recovered their old colour, and she couldn't stop staring at them, taking in this blue shade she had started loving when she was fifteen years old, or maybe even before then. These were old Ron's eyes, and God! How much she loved them!

"Hermione?" he said, his voice weak and hoarse.

"I'm here, I'm here, Ron," she said, barely containing her tears.

"Thirst ..." he muttered. "Water."

She hurried to the little kitchen and grabbed the glass. For a moment, she didn't know what to do and was about to exit the tent to fill the glass with water from the lake, but then remembered her wand and filled it with the _Aguamenti_ spell.

She handed the glass to Ron and he drank it quickly. When he gave the glass back to her, he was grimacing.

"It tastes ... metallic," he said, a bit disgusted.

Hermione realised that he had tasted his own blood, that still covered his lips, and then, suddenly, unable to hold it back, she burst into tears. She couldn't help it, because there it was, the emotion in his voice she had missed so much. This was Ron, old Ron, _her_ Ron, and he was back. After everything, after so much time and even more heartache, he was back. With her.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, trying to sit up. She shook her head and moved away, wishing for nothing more than to hug him and not to release him ever again, but was still too shocked to do just that. And besides, she didn't know what he was feeling or what se wanted.

"It — it's n-nothing," she said, wiping her tears away. "It's just that — that it _is_ you! You — you're back. You're back," she repeated, and let a new sob out. "H-how are you?" she asked, without looking at him. "How do you feel?"

He looked around, taking a few moments before answering.

"Tired," he said. "Strange. Weak."

"Weak?"

"Weak," he repeated, with a slightly sad tone. He sat up, slowly, and then got to his feet. Hermione moved her hands, as to help him, but in the last second she changed her mind and did nothing.

Without saying anything, or even look at her, Ron walked out of the tent, and Hermione followed him in silence. He didn't seem happy, or relieved. Was he already regretting what he had done? She didn't know what to think, so, trying not to, she stopped just outside the tent and watched him walk to the border of the lake and look at his own image reflected on the water.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, and Hermione realised he had seen his bloodstained face and neck. After a moment, he kneeled onto the ground, bent over, and began to wash his face in the lake as Hermione stood still, simply observing him. After a few minutes, he stood up again, his face now wet, but clean, and started wandering around in silence, looking at everywhere except at her.

She didn't know what to think, because this was not what she had expected at all. She felt as if she and Ron were even farther from each other than before; as if, though the Source had vanished, a solid wall had appeared between them. A wall made of glass, yes, but a wall nonetheless.

Ron kept wandering for few more minutes, until he stopped facing the oak tree. He stood there for a few moments and then turned round and looked at Hermione.

She gave a few hesitant steps towards him.

"I'm confused," he stated suddenly.

"What?" she asked, stopping dead.

"My head," he said, "it's full of feelings and ... stuff. I can't ... I can't think as clearly as before. It feels strange, after so long."

"Feelings," she repeated, in a low and almost shy tone. "Feelings ... for me?" she asked, her voice betraying the longing she felt.

Ron stared at her for a few moments before answering.

"Feelings," he simply said, turning round again.

"I thought that was what you wanted," Hermione said, her voice full of sadness. "You said you wanted to be happy, to feel again," she finished, and lowered her gaze, unable to look into his eyes.

"I wanted that, yes. But it is not a matter of what I want or don't want. Now is a matter of what I feel."

She looked at him, taking in his words, but didn't know what to say.

He wandered around the cave for a few minutes, in complete silence, while Hermione stayed there, by the tent, simply watching him, not knowing what to say or what to do. Ron loved her, like she loved him. That was undeniable. But, was that enough?

"You regret what you've done," she muttered after ten minutes, feeling her eyes moisten. "You can't forgive me."

"Regret what I've done?" he said, wheeling around and staring at her intensely. He gave a few steps in her direction. "I suffered several months' worth of pain in a few hours, Hermione. I gave up my power. I've already forgotten more things than I'll be able to learn during the rest of my life. And I did that just because I wanted what I once had. And you say that I regret what I've done?" He lowered his head, and when he raised it again she saw that his eyes were also wet. And just seeing them like this, filled with tears and showing the emotion they had lacked while he had been in possession of the Source, made her insides melt.

"Well, it's how it looks like," she added, sniffling. "You — you're acting so cold towards me ... I mean, I didn't expect a hug, or a kiss, but this —"

"Cold?" he repeated, and gave three more steps towards her, so that he was now three feet away from her. "I went through so much," he explained, closing his eyes as in pain, and screwed his face as though he was trying to hold back his tears. "I saw you and Harry kissing. Now I have images in my mind of you and him making love. This is too much, and it's happening too fast. I'm still trying to deal with everything: the pain, the memories, the way _he _manipulated me ... Merlin!" he moaned, lowering his gaze, and started to cry.

"Ron?" she said, feeling her heart break at the sight of him, looking so broken.

"During those weeks, during our journey, he made me talk so much about you ... and, all that time, it was him, it was _them_, the ones responsible for my misery. The way they arranged everything so that I would think that what there had been between us was a lie, so that I would think that I was nothing, that I was useless ..." He lifted his head and looked at her, his body shaking with sobs. "This is too much," he repeated. "And I have all these memories, of you crying, of you full of regret, of you suffering, and I didn't care. _I saw you hurt and full of remorse, and I didn't care!_" he yelled, and brushed his face. "And my mother ... and Ginny ... They just wanted a hug and I — I —" he turned round, maybe so she couldn't see him wiping away his tears.

"Ron, it's not your fault," she replied in a soft voice. "You were in so much pain. I understand what you did, Ron. And you saved us all."

"This ... this is too intense," continued Ron, facing her again. "I'm trying to deal with it, with the fact that they manipulated you, and Harry, and me, in such a horrible way. But, above all, I'm trying to deal with my feelings for you. You don't know how much I've missed you. I'm not acting coldly towards you, Hermione. I'm just trying to think, to refrain, while every cell in my body is screaming, telling me to embrace you, kiss you, and not to let you go ever again," he finished, locking eyes with her, and letting, finally, one lonely tear escape his left eye and run down his cheek.

Hermione felt her own tears spilling down her face. Her own mind was full of so opposite feelings: shame for what had happened; guilt for not having been stronger; and, above all, the immense, incommensurable love she felt towards him.

"Don't hold back," she told him in a pleading tone, "You don't have to refrain, Ron. I'm here. I am here for you. However you want, whenever you want ... I'll be here for you. I want you, all of you."

"It's not that easy," he said, brushing his face with the back of his hand. "I know why it happened, Hermione. I know everything Omega told us. I know you don't think Harry's better than me. I know that you love me. But still ... it happened. Nothing can't change that. Even if you were not yourself, the images are still there."

"Do you want me, Ron?" she asked boldly.

"I do," he responded. "More than anything else."

"I know it won't be easy," she said, her voice shaking. "But I love you, Ron. I really do. I know that this is going to be hard. But, please, not tonight. Tomorrow we can talk, or argue, or anything else you want to do. But tonight, Ron ... just — just hold me," she whispered, moving closer to him. His body was still shaking with barely contained emotion, and new tears were spilling down his face. She raised her right hand, put it on his face and, tenderly, wiped one tear with the pad of her thumb. "Just hold me. _Please_," she begged.

He stared at her for a moment, and then put his left hand over hers and closed his eyes. A moment later, he moved her hand, now clutched in his, towards his mouth and kissed it, and Hermione felt a warm feeling spreading throughout her body from the point where his lips had touched her skin.

"I've missed you, Hermione," he said, in a half-sob. "Oh, how I've missed you!" he exclaimed, fixing his tear-filled eyes in hers. "I've missed you even when I didn't know that I was doing it, even when I couldn't realise or feel it. Oh, Merlin ..."

And Hermione couldn't hold back anymore. Letting her tears run free down her already moistened cheeks, she threw himself at her and embraced him, tightly, feeling the warm skin of his chest again her soaked face and hearing the rapid beat of his heart.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry, for everything."

"I know, Hermione. I felt it, remember?" he said, and added, "I'm sorry, too."

"What?" Hermione asked, shocked, and parted a bit to look up at his face. "What should you feel sorry for?"

"Because I believed that you would be able of such deception, that you could start a relationship with me just because you didn't have Harry. For — for —"

"NO!" she yelled, feeling the tears in her eyes, too. "You don't have to be sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for, Ron! It's not your fault! None of this is your fault!" She grabbed his face with her hands and forced him to look at her. "You said it yourself, they're well suited for the job. They knew what to do, Ron, how to play with us. It's I who must be sorry, and I am, Ron. I am. I was the weak one."

Ron didn't say anything, and brushed his eyes again. Hermione put her hands back on his chest.

"Do — do you still feel it?" she asked, in a low and husky voice, caressing the skin above the place where his heart was. "The hole in your chest?"

"No," he answered, swallowing audibly. He moved his right hand from her back, caressing her neck, and, after a moment of hesitation, rested it on her own chest, just above her breasts. "And you? Do you feel that void?"

"Not anymore," she said, and, just a moment later, they were embracing again, and Hermione found herself wrapped in Ron's strong arms, with her face pressing against his warm and powerful chest, feeling his heart beating at an accelerated rate; and Ron kissed the top of her head, making her close her eyes to enjoy the sensation more intensely.

"I know you're tired of hearing it, but I'm sorry, Ron. For everything. I'm sorry for not having told you the truth. I'm sorry for not having made love with you back then. I'm sorry for not being strong enough. But I am glad, too. I'm glad we are all alive and you are here, with me."

She moved away, and put her hands against his chest, looking into his eyes, but noticed that he had again a sad and thoughtful look in them.

"Ron?" she asked, moving a bit farther from him.

"I keep seeing it, Hermione," he said sadly. "I try not to, but I see it. The kiss. And I hate it. But then I think of Fred, of Neville and Luna, of Lupin and Tonks ..." He moved away from her and looked at the oak tree. "If this hadn't happened, they — _you_ — could be dead, or about to die. I _could _be dead. Harry could be dead ... And I don't know what to feel. I don't know if I should be sad or glad."

"Yes, I know," she muttered. "I thought that what happened was unfair, but, seeing them alive ... It's still unfair, but I don't know what to think, either. I — I wouldn't exchange their lives for anything."

"Neither would I," he said, turning round to face her again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what you endured, Ron. You didn't deserve that."

"Neither did you," said Ron. "None of us deserved this."

He moved away from her and put his hands in his pockets. He walked aimlessly for a while, and then turned round and faced her again.

"I'm hungry," he said. "Can you get me some food? I shouldn't do magic so soon. I'm still weak."

"I don't have any," said Hermione apologetically.

"You can get it from Hogwarts," said Ron.

"But there are charms that prevent that," said Hermione. "Only a few people are authorised to do that, Ron. I tried to get some food while — well, while we were on the run, and it didn't work."

"I put new charms around the castle the daw we went there," Ron said. "You will be able to do it if you use my wand."

"Your — your wand?" said Hermione, astonished.

"You can use it, if I let you," Ron explained. "But be careful with it."

Hermione nodded, and Ron took it out from the pocket of his trousers. Hermione looked at it reverently, and then grabbed it. The instant her hand touched the wood she felt an extraordinary surge of power course through her.

"Merlin!" she shouted, half-impressed, half-shocked.

"Intense, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded, feeling her entire body tingle with the power of the wand, a power that tasted like Ron ... Shaking her head, she tried to concentrate, muttered the spell and she Conjured a dish full of cakes from the kitchens. They appeared instantly before her, and she was marvelled at how easy it had been.

"Cakes?" Ron asked, half-raising and eyebrow.

"You love sweets," she responded, shrugging. "I think you deserve them. And they've got a lot of sugar. Energy."

He smiled a bit, sat on the ground, and took one. "It's strange, feeling hungry again," he commented. "Everything is strange. Old, and, at the same time, new."

None of them said anything more for a while. Ron seemed really hungry, and Hermione could do nothing but stare at him. What was happening still seemed unreal to her.

"Do you want one?" he asked politely.

She shook her head. "No, thanks."

Silence fell again over them until Ron finished eating. "Mmh, much better," he said, palming his stomach. Hermione looked at his naked abs and chest and felt her face grow hot.

"I want this to work, Hermione," Ron commented suddenly, and Hermione looked up into his eyes. "I really want this to work."

"Me too, Ron," said Hermione, "More than anything. These months have been hell. I need you in my life, Ron. _I want you in my life_."

"I want you in my life, too. I know that you never fell in love with him, and I know he never fell in love with you. I know that when you were together you were not completely you. I know all that, but — but it won't be easy for me seeing you two together, Hermione. Not at first, at least. I know that maybe it is ridiculous, but —" He shook his head and stood up.

"It isn't," said Hermione quickly, standing up as well. "It is perfectly understandable, Ron."

"It's just the images, Hermione. It is not insecurity or fear. But seeing that hurt me, hurt me a lot ... and knowing the truth doesn't change the memories. It'll take time."

"I know, and I understand."

Their eyes locked, and, for a while, they just watched the other, taking in what was happening to them. Then, Hermione gave a step closer to him, and without breaking eye contact, asked, "Ron, can I ask you something?"

"I suppose," he said.

"Can you kiss me?"

"What?" he asked, opening his eyes wide and gulping.

"Kiss me, Ron. Please, kiss me. Make me forget. _Make us forget, even if it is just for a while._"

Ron just stared at her for a few moments, though it was like forever to her. Then, his eyes moved, focusing on her lips, and licked his bottom one unconsciously.

She couldn't help it. Getting closer to him, he put her arms around his neck and pulled his head towards hers until their lips met.

Half-moaning with the pleasure and the delight of being kissing him once more, after having almost accepted that it would never happen again, she closed her eyes, focusing only in the feeling of his wet, warm lips against hers. She felt him put his arms around her, embracing her and pulling her closer to him, until their chests were pressing against each other, and for a minute, or two, she never really knew for how long, they just kissed. Not passionately, as they had done countless of times before; they didn't even get their tongues involved, but just moved their lips, their mouths, half-open, against the other's, enjoying the sweetness of the moment, simply delighted and content of having the opportunity to be like this, after all the things that had happened, after all the things that had tried to separate them.

They finally move away, very slowly, their breathing deep and fast. Hermione opened her eyes, and her gaze met his. She gave him one chaste kiss on his lips and then moved a bit farther, staring again into his love-filled and wet eyes. They both kept gazing at each other, and Hermione let her right hand slide from his face, across his neck and then his naked chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against the palm of her hand. He closed his eyes again, trying, unsuccessfully, to stop the tears.

"I thought I would never feel this again," declared Hermione.

"Me too," said Ron. "When I was out there ..." he parted again from her and looked at the lake, sighing.

"It may sound strange, Ron," Hermione commented, her eyes fixed on him, "but, in a way, it feels better. After everything we went through, after believing I had lost you forever, kissing you again is — is even better than the first time. It's like believing that you're about to die and then find out that you're going to live."

Ron turned round and their eyes locked, and, at once, she knew what she wanted, what she needed: what she regretted not having done that day, last May, when twice they had been interrupted ...

"We can't change what happened, Ron," she said, moving closer to him and putting her hands on his sides, slowly caressing the skin over his ribs. "But we can make new memories, new images to substitute the old ones. Let's make new memories, Ron. Tonight, you and me."

Ron's eyes became the size of saucers. "Do — do you mean you want to — to —? With me?" he stuttered nervously, his ears turning a deep shade of red. The image was so endearing, so _Ron_, that she felt the need to cry again, and couldn't help but hear again, in her memory, those words he had said to her, that evening, after they had gone back to the common room:

"_Hermione ... Would you —? I mean, would you have — you know, _done it_, with me? Tonight?"_

She stared into his beautiful, blue, emotion-filled eyes, and answered both questions, past and present.

"With you, Ron," she said, caressing his face. "With no one else, ever again. I only want you. Only you, Ron. Forever."

"Don't you — don't you think it may be a mistake?" he asked, nervous. "I mean, it's not that I don't want to, but I've — I've been back to my old self only for a while. Maybe it's too soon?"

"It can't be a mistake," she declared. "We've waited long enough, Ron. I regret not having done it with you before — before what happened, that day, while Harry was trying to get that memory. That was the mistake. And I won't make it again. I have you back, Ron. And I want you. I want you so much," she affirmed, feeling the tears pricking her eyes. "Let's make a break tonight, Ron. Let's leave the talks and everything else for tomorrow. Let's forget about everything else, Ron, just for tonight."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes, too, filled with emotion. And then they were kissing again, frantically this time, with desperation, with raw need. Slowly, they moved towards the tent, their mouths never away from each other for more than a fraction of a second. Hermione caressed Ron's chest and arms, while he, a bit nervously, took her robe off as they entered the tent.

They paused for a moment, and Ron, taking the Wand of Power, lit the fire again, before tossing it on the bedside table. Their mouths glued again and they fell on the bed with their legs tangled. Their hands started roaming faster over the other's body, and Ron took off Hermione's shirt, leaving her in just her trousers and bra.

"You're so beautiful," he said taking in her appearance and caressing her skin reverently, before locking eyes again with her. "Hermione, I — I don't know what to — to do, or —" he said, and then fell silent, a bit embarrassed.

"Come here, Ron," she said, embracing him and pulling him over her. "Just come here and kiss me."

"I don't want to hurt you," he said shyly.

"What?" she asked, surprised, and stopped. "Ron, you — you won't hurt me. I mean, I'm not a — a virgin anymore. You know that."

"You don't understand," he said, moving a bit away from her. "Don't you remember, Hermione? Bellatrix' curse? It damaged you — well, _down there_, amongst other parts of your body. But I healed you with the White Light, didn't I? I let it fill your entire body and well, it — it heals _everything_."

She opened her eyes wide in surprise. "Do you mean —?"

"Yeah," he said, blushing.

She stared at him, open-mouthed and astounded, for a few moments, and then simply grinned. Broadly. "That will only make this more perfect, Ron," she declared, exhilarated. "I want to share this with you, as it should have happened. It will be like the first time, for both of us. Now I want it even more," she affirmed, and pulled him down towards her, feeling a need even more intense than ever before. "Come here, Ron, please ... and kiss me. Start kissing me and never stop."

And he, with his eyes full of emotion and smiling nervously, pulled her body against his, put his arms around her, his hands caressing her soft skin. He unhooked her bra with his shaking hands, his eyes never breaking contact with hers, and then did exactly what she had asked him, and started kissing her, wanting to never stop.

o o o

She couldn't stop smiling.

They were under the sheets, embracing and naked. Hermione had her head on Ron's chest, while he caressed her hair lovingly. She had never felt so happy, so complete. She had made love with Ron! Both had been a bit nervous, and he had been slightly insecure, but also passionate as he only could; and loving; and caring. He had been, in short, _Ron_, the true Ron. So different from the confident and determined Ron she couldn't love. He had been _her _Ron. Her Ron! And this time she had known, for sure, that it was right, that it was how it was supposed to be, that nothing was wrong, and that they were meant to be this way, that they had got their true paths back and fulfilled their destiny.

She closed her eyes, and, though it had happened just a few minutes before, she remembered again the feel of his hands on her skin, on her breasts, on her legs ... and the sensation of his lips on hers, sliding over her exposed neck, over her chest ...

She felt her body heat up again, and a new need growing inside her.

She lifted her head and looked at his face, and saw that he had his eyes closed and that he was breathing steadily. She smiled tenderly. He must be knackered, after the night he had endured.

"I love you, Ron," she whispered, pressing her body harder against his. "Thank you, thank you so much, for coming back to me."

"Thank you for being at my side, Hermione," he answered, surprising her. "I could feel you, when I was trapped in that nightmare. You kissed me. You kissed me and I knew that the nightmare was over, that there was no reason to feel more pain, to feel empty."

"Ron ..."

"Yes, love?"

Hermione felt a powerful surge of emotion ran through her body. _Love_. How good it sounded!

"Do you think — do you think Omega knew? That you would come back? I mean, he didn't seem worried when you left."

"I don't know," Ron said, opening his eyes and staring at the canvas. "Maybe. I don't really care. I know that they did what they had to, I suppose. And I know that, in the end, they helped us to win; I know that a lot of people who otherwise would be dead survived. But they hurt me too much, Hermione. And you; and Ginny; and Harry. I don't want to speak about them ever again."

"That sounds perfect to me. I don't want to think about them, either."

They stayed in silence for a minute or two, and then Hermione spoke again.

"I promised Harry I would go to the Burrow today."

"I know, you told me."

"We will go, won't we?"

"Yes. I want to see my family. I miss them. I suppose they will be glad to see me."

"More than glad, I reckon," said Hermione. Another silence filled the tent, while Hermione plucked up the courage to voice the next question.

"Ron ... what about Harry?"

Ron looked at her, serious, and then fixed his eyes back on the canvas before answering.

"Harry ..." he repeated with a sigh. "We share the compartment in our first train ride to Hogwarts. He chose me over Malfoy. He saved Ginny. He saved Dad. He gave Fred and George the money for their shop. He's always been my seventh brother. And then he kissed you when you were my girlfriend. I know he wasn't really him, I know how much he regrets everything ..." he sighed again. "I know that I haven't always been a perfect friend," he said, and Hermione looked at him quizzically. "I mean, during the Triwizard Tournament. And he forgave me without question. I know it's not the same, and that we were younger then, but —" he stopped, maybe not knowing what to say.

Hermione didn't say anything, either, but just listened to him, waiting for him to continue.

"I miss him, Hermione, and I want our friendship back. It won't be easy, at first. There will be awkward moments, especially if the three of us are together, but, after everything we faced, after what _they_ did to us, I want to try. I've forgiven you, I've accepted what happened and why. So I think I can forgive him, too. I need him in my life. The Fates took his parents from him, the war took his godfather from him, but I won't let _them_ take his friends from him without a fight, Hermione. And I hope that one day ... we will be able to be, the three of us, the best friends we once were. Maybe even better."

"Oh, Ron!" she said, and hugged and kissed him. "I want that too. I really do."

"It won't be easy, though," he said.

"When has something been easy for us?" Hermione commented. "I mean, it required for me to spend one afternoon crying in a bathroom and a fight with a twelve-foot-tall troll to become friends in the first place."

"Good point," he said, with a little laugh that was music to Hermione's ears.

"Maybe that's why it so special, what we had," she added.

"Yes," he agreed, and then yawned. She couldn't help but smile at him.

"We should sleep," she said, watching him. "You must be knackered."

He looked at her, and then grinned. With his old grin, that one she loved so much.

"I have better ideas," he said, with a mischievous tone, and, raising his torso, he positioned himself above her, his right leg getting between hers. "I mean, we've wasted a lot of time. I think we are, well ... very behind in _our studies_," he explained, and she smiled at this mention of one of their old private jokes. Without breaking eye contact with her, he moved his head towards hers and kissed her, softly, still grinning, while one of his hands caressed her tummy and moved upwards, until it reached her breasts.

When he parted a bit, she smiled back, feeling her heart beat faster with joy and happiness and her body get warm, his hands and leg causing wonderful sensations on her body.

"You think, do you?"

"I'm fairly sure."

"Well, you know I take my studies very seriously," she stated, trying to maintain a straight face, but without success, "so I think we should start ... _working_."

"That's my girl," he stated, and kissed her again, more passionately. She moaned, putting her arms around his back to pull him against her, and he started to kiss her cheeks, nose, jaw-line and neck, what he did for about two minutes, making her moan sensually, until he raised his head again to look at her. She opened her eyes and looked back, disappointed.

"A lot of things have changed in this time, Hermione, but there's something that hasn't since the very first day I met you."

"And what is it?" she asked, slightly panting and looking into his eyes, intrigued.

"Your ability to drive me completely mad, one way or another."

Her entire body tingled, and she felt incredible warmth spread throughout her. She brought his mouth back to his, and they got lost in each other once more as time lost its significance.

o o o

"I love you Ron," she whispered, feeling that she was the happiest person on Earth, while her head rested on his chest once more.

"Lovyehto, 'Ermynee," he said sleepily, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him. Hermione sighed happily, and, raising her head a bit, looked at the entrance of the tent and at the cave.

This was the place where the first spells had been invented; this was the place where the first wand had been fashioned; this was the place where Ron had became the most powerful wizard ever and where he had made the most powerful wand.

And now it was also the place where Ron and she had made love for the first — two — times. Now, this place, that was part of the history of magic, was part of their history as well. She would never forget what had happened that night.

She turned her head and looked at the bedside table, where her watch was.

It was almost eight o'clock in the morning; in Britain, dawn was breaking.

She snuggled against Ron again and realised that, just four days before, she had woken up, in another tent, beside Harry, being a fugitive and feeling lost, sad and hopeless. Exactly four days.

Things weren't going to be easy, and she was sure that there would be bad moments and problems to solve. But wasn't bad things, after all, what made good things good? They would go through those issues and problems as they had gone through everything else they had faced. Their love had grown, after all, in the midst of battles and wars.

And she would never forget the last year, or how much suffering, how much pain they had endured, how much they had had to go through to get what they now had. And when hard times came, as surely they would, she would keep in mind her reason to keep going and fighting: the love of her life, that love she had almost lost, and then regained, during those four last days of the war.

* * *

><p><em>Yes, they end up together! They're meant to be, they belong together, and they'll make it through the bad times because their love is so great and wonderful.<em>

_I hope you liked 'old Ron' back. A bit more emotional, and more mature, but still Ron._

_Some of you had asked me for more stories. Well, I have a few others. Will I publish them? No, because they're unfinished, or not good enough. Will I write more? I don't know. This story really cost me so much, it was so complicated, and so hard, tying the knot around all the events in the books and this story!_

_There won't be any sequel, either. Never. That would only ruin the story for me.  
><em>

_I have, however, two little stories that belong to the 'background' of __**Those Four Last Days of the War**__. They're nothing like this, they're happy stories prior to the events in June, 1997. I wrote them because I needed the background, and if you want to know more about the drawing Hermione kisses in 'The Beginning of a new life', or about her first 'Weasley Jumper', the 'biscuit incident', the moment she shared with Fleur that is mentioned when Ginny and she leave the hospital wing after the battle in June, you should read it. It is called __**A very Weasley Christmas**__. And if you want to know everything about that evening when Ron and Hermione almost made love, you'll find it out in a one shot called __**Almost Ready**__. They're happy stories, but they have no intrigue or mystery. They are also a bit sad, because they show how wonderful Ron and Hermione were before the Protectors of the Purpose started manipulating Hermione and Harry, so maybe you won't want to read them. I'll publish them when this is complete, though I don't know exactly when._

_Well, the epilogue, on Monday. And, though I never asked, this time I'm going to do it, and I would love a review. Thank you, and happy weekend!_


	29. Epilogue

_I'm so glad all of you — well, the ones who reviewed, at least — liked the ending. Many, many thanks to you all!_

_Now, the end!_

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

She watched the trees pass rapidly outside the window, the closest ones almost a green and brown blur, while the farthest almost still, as the Hogwarts Express moved, quickly and steadily, towards London. In one hour, more or less, they would be there, arriving at King's Cross for the last time, after her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hermione smiled against the glass. It had been a month since last time, and she was dying to see him again, to hug him and kiss him. How she had missed him! If there was something she really missed of the powerful Ron, was his ability to Apparate into Hogwarts. She had never told him that, because he didn't like to talk about the time he had been in possession of the Source, but she had thought about it frequently, usually while she was in her bed, at night. She would fantasise about him Apparating there, with her, and they would make love and then sleep together until the morning. Just the mere idea made her smile, and she felt her cheeks flush at the thought.

"Why are you smiling?" Ginny asked her, taking her out of her daydream.

"Eh?" she said, turning her head to look at her friend, who was sitting in front of her. They were accompanied by some of Ginny's old classmates (who were also her classmates now). Hermione felt the eyes of Alisha, Olive and Madeleine upon her. Luna was there as well, though she was busy reading _The Quibbler_.

"I've asked why you are smiling," Ginny said, watching her. "And you look flushed as well ..." she shook her head and put a face of disgust. "No, you'd better not tell me. It involves Ron and I'm sure I don't want to know."

Madeleine and Olive exchanged a glance and giggled, and Hermione couldn't help a new smile.

"Well, I miss him," Hermione said shyly.

"And I miss Harry, too, Hermione, but this is our last train ride in the Hogwarts Express!"

"Yeah, it sounds strange, doesn't it?"

"A bit, yeah," agreed Ginny, nodding.

"I'll miss Hogwarts," Alisha said with a sigh.

"I won't," replied Olive. "I'll miss you, girls, but not all those amounts of homework, or the stress of the NEWTs. I'm quite glad that's all in the past now."

Hermione looked again out of the window. She hadn't minded the hard work. She had loved to have the opportunity of being with Ginny and repairing their friendship and bond, but being at Hogwarts without Ron and Harry was too odd for her. The homework had helped her to pass the time.

Fortunately, Ron and Harry had been able to visit quite frequently. They had been present in all the Quidditch matches Gryffindor had played (Ginny had been appointed as captain, winning the Cup) and used to go to Slughorn's parties at least once a month (though she suspected that Ron really hated them, and only came to see her). But still, it was not enough for Hermione after the months she had spent with him since the end of the war until last September; those months they had spent trying to mend their relationship.

She couldn't help it, and, as so frequently happened, she found herself remembering the two weeks they had spent in Australia after they had restored her parents' memories and explained everything to them. Initially, they had planned to spend just a weekend there, but they had ended up turning that 'dirty weekend' into a 'dirty fortnight'. Her body heated up just with the memories, and she felt her face grow hot again.

Sixteen months had passed since then, and she still woke up in the mornings thinking that being with Ron was too good to be true. Of course, not everything had been smooth and easy. There had been awkward moments, tension, arguments and tears. But she knew that would happen, and he knew, too, and both were ready for it. And, above all, the two of them remembered perfectly well how much they had endured to be where they were, and were ready to fight to keep and protect it.

Now school was over for her. She only had to await the results of her NEWTs, which — she believed — had gone very well, and then could finally join the Ministry. Ron had told her, the last time she had seen her, during the last Quidditch match of the season, that Kingsley was eager to have her. Of course, she wasn't going to join the Aurors: the Department of Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures awaited her.

_The Aurors._

Ron was now Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry. He didn't have the Source anymore, but with the knowledge he still had and the power of his Wand, he was, for sure, a formidable wizard. Kingsley had offered the position to him days after he and Hermione had come back from Australia, and Harry had given him his full support. No one has dared to protest. Some of the Aurors, after all, had been beaten by him during the battle in the Ministry, and some people still feared him, which was a great advantage in that post.

Most of the magical population approved of this choice, however, feeling better knowing that Ron, vanquisher of Lord Voldemort, was in charge of the Aurors. Ron was, probably, the most famous wizard alive now.

And he hated every minute of it.

How things had changed!

Smiling again, Hermione's thoughts wandered to the day Ron had turned back into himself, that day they had spent in the Cave of Old Magic. They had woken up in the afternoon, and after making love once more, they had Apparated to The Burrow. She remembered the moment they had opened the door. The Weasleys and Harry were getting ready for dinner, while they waited for her. They believed, after all, that she had spent the night at Hogwarts and was travelling on the Hogwarts Express. Their sudden apparition had been a shock for everyone, but, after just a second, Mrs Weasley had run towards her son and had embraced him tightly, dissolving into tears of happiness and joy. And this time, Ron had hugged her back, with true feelings. After that, he had been embraced by Ginny, his father, Fleur and all his brothers, all of them astounded by his sudden apparition. And then, he and Harry had stood still for a while, facing each other. Ron, serious; Harry, looking ashamed, but with his eyes full of longing. Finally, after a few moments of tension, Ron had held out his hand, and Harry had shaken it. But, in the end, he had ended up hugging Ron, crying and muttering 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Ron' over and over again. Ron had still for a few moments, but, finally, he had embraced Harry as well.

After they had parted, both of them with their eyes wet, Ron simply had asked "Are you and Ginny together?" Harry had hesitated, but Ginny had answered "we're getting there", and Hermione had smiled at her.

"Then make sure she's happy, Potter. And if you make her suffer, just once, you'll know how powerful the Wand of Power is and how hard my fist can punch. Is it clear?"

And Harry, blinking, had smiled slightly and had replied, "I'll do my best."

Things had not been easy for the two, especially when the three were together, but both of them had tried. But though they had tried to act normal, to try and be best friends again, there had been several moments of tension, some arguments, and hard times. Things hadn't been easy.

The fifth night at The Burrow, Ron had walked in the house, after helping his father with some things, and had found Harry and Hermione sitting on the couch, talking. They weren't even touching, but the tension that had suddenly appeared in the room could have been cut with a knife.

Hermione had spent every night in Ron's room (Harry was using Percy's) since their return, but that night, for the first time, Ron had told her that he wanted to sleep alone when she had climbed up the stairs to join him. She had not replied, just nodded, and then had gone back to Ginny's room, where she had cried silently. She knew that this would happen, Ron had told her that things would not be easy. _She knew_ that things would not be easy. He just needed some time for himself. But still, she had felt the need to cry.

And she had thought that maybe it was time to get her parents back.

The next day, she had got up early, and had gone outside for a walk. She was heading for the house when Ron had walked out and approached her, smiling warmly, and had kissed her before telling her that he was sorry for last night, but that he needed a little break. And Hermione, relieved, has said that she understood it and that he didn't have to explain anything. And then she had told him that she wanted to go to Australia to bring her parents back, and that maybe, if he wanted to, he could go with her and they could spend some time alone.

And Ron had accepted gladly, so they had arranged a Portkey, planning to restore Hermione's parents' memories and then spent a weekend in Australia.

Everything had gone well. Hermione's parents lived exactly where Ron had told her, and the charm had been reverted successfully. The explanations, however, hadn't been easy. Ron and Hermione had spent that first night with the Grangers, explaining everything, including the fact that Ron and Hermione were there together, after what Hermione had told them during the summer.

It hadn't been an easy talk.

And next morning, while the Grangers arranged everything to go back, Hermione had told them that they probably needed some time to take in all what they had heard, and that she and Ron were going to spend a few days alone and that they would see them again in England.

That weekend, however, had been so great for them that they had decided to stay for another two weeks before going back.

But, though that fortnight had been wonderful for Ron and Hermione, the tension between Ron and Harry was still there, despite their chats and that both of them were making efforts, so, a few weeks after Ron and Hermione had returned from Australia, Harry and Ron had told Hermione and Ginny that they were going to spend a weekend, both of them alone, in Grimmauld Place.

Hermione had not liked the idea. _Grimmauld Place?_ Harry had said that he wouldn't go there ever again! And now he was planning to go there _with Ron_?

She had argued, and protested. But they were determined, and had told the girls not to go there, under any circumstances, until Sunday evening.

Even Kreacher had been forced to leave the place and spend the weekend at The Burrow. Hermione had gone to her parents' house, but she hadn't enjoyed it, anxious as she was. The hours had seemed to last days, and the days had seemed as long as years.

Finally, on Sunday evening, she had gone to fetch Ginny, and both of them had gone to Grimmauld Place, both full of fear. And they had found the two of them in the drawing room — which smelled strongly of Firewhiskey — lying on the floor and extremely drunk. Harry sported a black eye and a split lip, but other than that, they looked extremely cheerful, both laughing stupidly and stammering something about a centaur and an old hag.

After a few instants of shock, Ginny had put a scowling face, and with a tone that resembled her mother's, had started to yell.

"Harry Potter! Ronald Weasley! This is really great! We spend the entire weekend worried about you, thinking that you might be here duelling to death, and you are having a party and getting drunk!"

"Don' jell," had answered Ron, grimacing. "Whash yer phroblem? Wee haffent got drunk evah, haffent wee?"

"Yeah, ne — nevah, Gin," had agreed Harry, nodding stupidly. "Eet's not a bi-beeg deal. And weer the — the shosen ones, aren't wee?"

"Yeah, the chosen ones!" had yelled Ron. "I beet Voldy — Voldymort, and if I and m'frend want to get drunk, wee get drunk!"

"Ah, that's an excuse for this, then!" had shouted Ginny.

"Don' mind 'er, 'Arry," Ron had said, moving a hand dismissively towards Ginny. "Wesley women get mad too fre — freq — frequently," he had managed to say. "Yeh'll get ac — accustom'd teh eet."

"Yeah, vut I luv 'er tha — that way," had muttered Harry, grinning.

Ginny had blushed furiously, but Hermione couldn't tell whether it was due to embarrassment or anger.

"Yeh do," had nodded Ron, "vut she should loos'nup a bit, like 'Ermynee. Shee'sent jelling an' makeeng our 'eads 'urt, eesen' shee?"

"Yeah," had agreed Harry. "Best frend evah, 'Ermaynee."

"For yeh, luv," had said Ron, looking at Hermione and raising his bottle, clearly intending to drink from it.

"You don't need more of this!" had bellowed Ginny, moving forward and taking the bottle from him.

"Hey, dhad's mine!" had protested Ron.

"You don't have anything to say?" had said then Ginny, turning her head to look at Hermione.

Truly, one part of Hermione had wanted to tell them off for behaving like this, but she simply hadn't been able to. She hadn't been able to stop looking at them, utterly drunk and sharing this strange form or male-bonding, laughing, enjoying the company and defending each other.

"Well, to say the truth ... I don't see the problem," she had said, grinning and shocking Ginny completely.

No one had never known what had really happened that weekend, because Ron and Harry never explained anything; but, whatever it was, Hermione was utterly glad, because they had gone back — almost — to being their old selves around each other.

Life had started to be how it was supposed to be.

Hermione got out of her thoughts and noticed that the trees and fields had been replaced by streets and buildings. They were almost there. Her heart rate quickened, and she smiled again.

"You know, I'd love to look like you one day, Hermione," commented Olive, who was staring at her.

"Like me? What do you mean?"

"Well, you look so in love," Olive explained in a dreamy tone. "You went through so much, Hermione," she continued, surprising her a bit, because they usually didn't mention what had happened the year before. "Is it — is it worth it?"

Everyone looked at Hermione, and even Luna averted her eyes from the magazine.

Hermione looked out of the window again, and thought about the Christmas party, the time at Hogwarts with Ron, the terrible events of that June, the awful months in the run, with Harry ... And finally, about that miraculous night in the Cave of Old Magic.

"Yes," she said, smiling at Olive. "It's definitely worth it. It's worth _everything_."

"Yeah," nodded Ginny, also smiling. "It is."

The train began to slow down, and the five girls stood up and lifted down their trunks, ready to disembark for the last time at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

They hugged one another, wished the others good luck. Luna was the last to say goodbye.

"You can visit us whenever you want," said Ginny. "We live so near and yet never meet during the summer."

"I'll try," said Luna smiling. "It would be wonderful. But I don't know when, I'm going with my father and the Scamanders on a trip to search for fantastic creatures."

"The Scamanders?" asked Hermione, surprised. "As in _Newt Scamander_?"

"Yes," answered Luna. "Ralph Scamander, who is the son of Newt Scamander, wrote an article for _The Quibbler_. He invited us to a trip he was planning, and we're going with him, her wife Artemis and their son, Rolf."

"It sounds ... wonderful," said Hermione, smiling.

"Yes," nodded Ginny, "Good luck finding Snorkacks, or whatever creature you're looking for."

"We're going to Africa, and Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks live only in the north," replied Luna seriously, but then added, smiling and with her eyes gleaming with hope and joy, "I hope we'll see a Firegriff, though!"

"Yes ... good luck with that," Hermione said, trying to maintain a straight face.

Luna smiled, she hugged Hermione and Ginny and then left, leaving the other two girls alone. They got their things, got out of the train, and started to search for a known face amongst the crowd.

A family of four moved, after some hugs and greetings, and Hermione spotted Ron and Harry, standing still, alone, but receiving occasional glances from the people around them. She smiled radiantly. "They're there," she told Ginny, and both of them hurried towards the boys, and, at once, embraced their loved ones, who were smiling too.

"I've missed you," whispered Hermione against Ron's neck, hugging him tightly before moving her head to kiss him. "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too," he replied, and kissed her once more.

They parted, and then she hugged Harry while Ron greeted her sister. The hug was brief, like all the others they had shared since the war, but enough to transmit the affection and friendship they felt for each other. She moved instantly closer to Ron again, and he put a protective arm around her shoulders.

"I thought my parents were going to come," commented Hermione, looking around.

"I had tea with them yesterday," Ron said. "I told them I would fetch you. We have to go and have dinner with them tonight, and afterwards you're mine for the rest of the weekend. I've missed you _a lot_," he added, whispering into her ear.

"The entire weekend? Really?" she asked, surprised but delighted.

"The entire weekend," Ron repeated.

"If you both hadn't missed the party Slughorn hosted five days ago you could have seen us," Ginny commented.

"We had a mission, we told you," explained Ron. "Besides, I hate Slughorn's parties, as you very well know."

"But you come to almost every one," replied Hermione.

"Yes, but just because I can sneak with you into the Room of Requirement afterwards," said Ron boldly, and Hermione flushed.

"We don't need to know what happens there, thank you," said Ginny with a grimace.

"You're right, you don't," agreed Ron. "I don't want you to pick any ideas for when you're alone with Harry."

"I don't need to 'pick ideas'," protested Ginny. "And what we do is none of your business!" she added, blushing.

"I disagree. He's one of my best Aurors, I must be sure that they are healthy and in good physical condition," Ron replied with all the seriousness he could muster, but a moment later Harry started to laugh, and soon they all were cracking with laughter.

"How was the mission, now that you mention it?" asked Hermione more seriously after a while.

"We caught them, in the evening, two days ago," explained Ron. "Three snatchers, hidden in an old shack. Piece of cake."

"Piece of cake?" repeated Hermione, watching him. "Then what's that little bruise you have on your left cheek?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. "Nothing," Ron said. "They tried to retaliate, but they still wet their pants when I show them this," he explained, taking his wand and raising it.

"I broke into the shack from one side, while Ron awaited them on the other," said Harry. "The plan was that, when they tried to escape, after hearing us, they'd run directly into Ron. It worked, and, the moment they saw Ron with the wand aloft, two of them froze on the spot and dropped their wands, scared to death. The third was, however, too stupid to know what was good for him, and tried to fight. He blew up a wall, trying to smash Ron."

"I blasted him," Ron continued, "and stopped the fragments of the wall from reaching me, but I missed a plank and it hit me here —" he pointed at the bruise, "— and caused this."

"You have to be more careful!" said Hermione in a scolding tone, her voice filled with worry.

"It was just a brief moment of distraction, Hermione, don't worry."

"Of course I worry! I had 'just a brief moment of distraction' once, Ron, and I almost died!"

"Yes, I told him that, too," said Harry.

"You shut up, Harry, if you don't want to spend the next week filling reports!" Ron said, flushing a little.

"_You_ are ordering other people to fill reports?" Ginny asked, shocked.

"Hey!" Ron replied, frowning and looking offended. "Don't use that tone, I'm responsible now."

They all laughed again, and then Harry said, "Well, tell that to anyone who doesn't know you have an entire drawer stuffed with Chocolate Frogs!"

"Well, I _need_ a morning snack, don't I?" Ron defended himself. "And you stop talking about confidential stuff if you want to keep your access rights to them!"

Harry raised his hands in surrender, and, again, they burst into laughter.

"When do you plan to join the Ministry, Hermione?" Harry asked, after the laughter died out. "Kingsley asked us yesterday if you could go and see him on Monday."

"I haven't received my NEWT results yet!"

"As if we needed a letter to know what you've got," commented Ron, rolling his eyes. Hermione blushed.

"Yeah, eleven 'Outstandings'," said Harry, nodding.

"She's capable of getting twelve doing only eleven exams," added Ron. Hermione blushed even more and Ginny and Harry started laughing again. But Hermione noticed that, though he was joking, Ron's eyes were full of pride, and she beamed at him.

"Well, now that we're talking about jobs and serious things," said then Ginny, drawing their attention, "I have the pleasure to announce — as you couldn't come and therefore don't know — that Gwenog Jones was in attendance at last Slughorn's party, she spoke to me and ... well, right now you have in front of you the last recruit of the Holyhead Harpies!" Ginny exclaimed, beaming.

Harry beamed at her, too, full of pride. "That's wonderful, Gin!"

"Yeah, I think so! We can get free passes!" added Ron, raising his right fist.

"Ron!" scolded Hermione.

"Okay, okay ..." he said, adopting a more serious expression. "Congratulations, Ginny. The Harpies are not the Chudley Cannons, but well done."

"Fortunately," replied Ginny in low voice, but Ron heard her and scowled. "I still have to pass the tryouts, you know," Ginny explained. "I might not make it."

"You will," said Harry encouragingly. "You were the best player of the year."

"You're saying that just because you want a snog," blurted out Ginny.

"NO!" yelled Harry, offended. "I'm saying it because it's the truth!"

"Too much information," said Ron, closing his eyes.

"Well, it's time to go to The Burrow," said Harry, checking his watch. "You two are going straight to Hermione's house, aren't you?" he asked Ron and Hermione.

"Yes," nodded Ron. "We'll see you all at dinner on Sunday."

"Enjoy your weekend, then," said Harry, and smiled happily at Hermione. She returned the smile, and knew at once what Harry meant with it: that, despite the Fates' cruelty, they had put these wonderful people in their paths; and that they were the luckiest people in the world just for having them.

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and, with a goodbye, both of them Disapparated. Ron turned to look at her.

"Let's go, then?"

"Yes," she nodded, but, instead of moving, she asked, "Ron, where are we going? After dinner, I mean."

"It's a surprise," he answered with a little smile, and turned to look at her trunk.

Hermione looked around and noticed that the platform was now almost empty. Only two of three families were still there.

Ron took out his wand, and, with a flick, sent Hermione's luggage to her house. While he was doing it, Hermione noticed that, a few yards away, a first-year was watching him in awe. Ron acknowledged it after a few seconds and stared back at the child, who blushed, embarrassed, and turned round.

"I hate when people do that," he commented, in a low voice.

"They admire you."

"They don't know anything. They don't understand. They think what happened was a funny adventure, or something like that. People think we went to Hogwarts, that there were a few impressive battles, and the war was over. If they knew what happened, what we endured —" he shook his head, his expression a bit sad. "I'd never understood Harry like I do now. I can't believe I once envied his fame."

Hermione stared at him, profoundly amazed by how wonderful this man — _her_ man, who had restored all her dreams and hopes — was. She could see the pain in his eyes, that pain that was also reflected in hers and Harry's, that pain that had made them all wiser, more mature, and more aware of what they had and how valuable it was.

"I love you, Ron," she blurted out suddenly. "I love you so much."

He stared back at her, and his eyes, that reflected that pain that made them more deep and even more enthralling, were immediately warmed by the love and affection he felt towards her, and his lips curved into a smile, that smile she so adored. Her left hand brushed against his, and he clutched it in his warm, larger one.

"I know, Hermione," he said, staring at her intensely. "Believe me, I know."

And while the sensation of Apparition engulfed them and they vanished from the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, she thought that they were not only Apparating into their parents' house, but into their future, a future for which they had fought so hard, a future she planned to live to its fullest.

With Ron.

Her hero; her man.

Her only and true love.

* * *

><p><em>Well, that's all! Their future — and life, with its ups and downs — await them. I'm sure this is not as good as last chapter, but I had to write it!<br>_

_I don't know when I'll be posting the other stories, but at least, not within the next two weeks._

_Feel free to contact me whenever you want, and thank you, again, for being there and read this._

_See you!_


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